A werewolf's tale
by mokimik
Summary: We all know how and what Harry thought when he first saw Remus Lupin in the train, but what did Remus think about the son of his friend? Remus point of view in Harry's 3rd year. Reviews are welcomed and are getting a nice reply:D:D
1. Surprises on the Howart's Express

He walked through the oh-so-familiar wall that separated the red train from the prying eyes of muggles.

Well, walked was a pretty big word. More limping like an old man. Or, in his particular case, limping like a werewolf who had bitten himself too many times the previous night. With a sigh he looked at the train. It was just the same, and if Remus hadn't known better, he'd have expected his friends to erupt from the steam any moment now, laughing like lunatics, walking towards him and patting him on the back like all the boys of their age would do.

And yet, it was so different. He sighed again and looked at the clock above him. An hour left before the train would leave. Remus hadn't know how long it would take to get to King's Cross on muggle transportation, so he had just stepped in the first subway he could find at nine o'clock. Apparition wasn't exactly an option; with the state he was in he would most likely splinch himself.

Inwardly he groaned. If he had just remembered that it was full moon on the night of August 31, he wouldn't have had to stand in the Metro, with every muggle staring at him like he was some kind of tramp. He limped closer to the train and stepped in. The second cabin was occupied by an anxious first year, but all the others were empty, so he took the last one, knowing that entering would fill his head with every memory of his own school time. After all, this was the same cabin Remus had stepped into as a first year, and every year after that, to "open the first meeting of the Marauders," as Sirius once put it. With a deep breath and a last gasp of strength, he pushed his suitcase in the luggage rack. Then he plopped down on the seat he had usually taken and thought back . . .

The Marauders . . . what a change their friendship had been through. Two dead, by the hands of the third, and the last one feeling guilty for ever having been friends with the murderer at all. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore's persuasion, and his own financial problems, Remus wouldn't have even considered returning to the place where he had once been so happy with his three best friends. Even now he was doubting his decision; with Sirius on the loose, everything would be . . . he couldn't even put the thought into words. And then there was the great and mighty secret of the Marauders, which no one knew now, except for Sirius and himself. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, Remus had a nagging suspicion that it was not by accident that Sirius had become the first person to escape from Azkaban. Admittedly, Sirius had always been brilliant, but in this case, he had an extra advantage. Should he, Remus, tell the Ministry what he knew? It was the right thing to do, and only just, considering what Sirius had done. But doing so would force him to reveal the whole truth: that he had abused the trust of Albus Dumbledore, the one authority figure who had ever trusted him at all, and was now giving him a job. Besides, the Ministry just came up with some new rules and laws for werewolves….. Remus didn't feel warm and fuzzy about them at the moment. He looked at his right, to the compartment door. Slowly, he felt his eyes closing, thinking about the Marauders' third journey to Hogwarts, when they'd hexed the neighbouring compartment, causing its occupants to feel the need to run through the train, yelling and barking like mad.

"Who do you reckon that he is?" Suddenly he heard voices entering the compartment. The sleep he had before was still shimmering, so he let his eyes closed, hoping the students would notice he was now a professor, and leave, because, honestly, who would voluntarily sit next to a teacher when you could avoid it? Remus slowly noticed that the train was also riding and he felt the ritmic sounds.

"Professor R.J. Lupin," another voice, (female this time,) whispered. Remus wondered for a moment how she had known that, until…

"How do you know that?" Apparently, he hadn't been the only one wondering.

"It's on his case," replied the girl.

"Wonder what he teaches?"

"That's obvious. There is only one vacancy, isn't there? Defence Against the Dark Arts."

He smiled lightly. It was clear that the girl was very smart and had a knack of "connecting the dots," as his dad had always said.

"Well, I hope he's up to it. He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he?"

Remus thought he ought to be slightly angry with the kid, but couldn't bring himself to get mad. After all, the boy was probably right.

"Anyway . . .What were you going to tell us?" the boy continued.

A third voice began to speak.

Remus' eyes flew open, and he could hardly suppress a gasp. Next to the compartment door sat a thirteen year old boy, speaking and looking exactly like James Potter.

Inwardly, Remus cursed. Of course. In all the commotion in the past weeks, between his new job and Sirius' escape, Remus had totally forgotten about the Boy-Who-Lived, or in his mind, The-Son-Of-His-Best-Friend-Who-Didn't-Die. The boy who had survived when his parents didn't, and the boy who had survived again and again. The boy who now, rumour had it, was the newest target of the mass-murderer Black.

Listening to Harry's words, he heard that Harry knew about the danger he was in, but didn't know the whole story.

"Sirius Black escaped to come after _you_? Oh, Harry . . . You'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble, Harry—"

"I don't go looking for trouble, trouble usually finds me," Harry replied, sounding slightly irritated.

It was the same sentence James had uttered long ago, only then it had been used as a pick-up line directed at Lily Evans. Then again, most things James said turned into pick-up lines, which he always attempted to use on the same person.

He remembered that in one of his attempts to ask the mother of this child out, Sirius, Peter and himself had been standing outside, looking above their heads, to see James on a broomstick knocking on the window of the fifth-years girls dormitory.

A second later, James was being attacked by several items that could only be found in a girl's room, including three lipsticks, a container of cold cream, and a bra, which later found its way to an altar made especially for it by Sirius.

The next second, James fell of his broom, because a certain red-head had decided that holding the end and shaking furiously while her roommates still threw stuff at him, was fun. This was also the exact reason why Remus had demanded to Peter and Sirius to come, because no matter how good James was as a flyer; Lily was better at making him a fool out of himself and letting him fall of a broom.

The three of them had used their hands as a safety-net, but unfortunately, James was a bit too heavy for them to support, so the four boys ended up in a mess of arms, legs and various other body parts, while Lily used the time to throw more things at them from above, including James' very heavy broomstick.

Remus didn't heard what the kids say further: his brain, which hadn't had sleep last night, demanded that it would get it now. In the background, he heard a faint whistle_. A Sneakoscope_, he thought immediately: how many times hadn't he heard it He'd heard them too many times to be concerned. They always went off in the presence of a werewolf.

"Get out of it!" The voice of the red-haired boy woke him from the shimmering sleep. He peeked to see what was happening.

"Ron, don't!" the girl said angrily.

A large ginger cat was sitting on the boy named Ron, who tried to shove it away. Remus stirred. He hated cats, ever since the day he got his _condition_;he'd been out looking for his pet cat when he was bitten. He could hardly blame the werewolf for biting him, not now that he knew how awful it was to be one himself. So he had always blamed cats for getting lost and their needing to be found.

He could feel the kids' eyes on him, and found it best to pretend he was still a sleep and turned his head, letting his mouth hang slightly open. However, he didn't sleep at all. He was peeking at the reflection of the tree kids in the window and analysing them.

So this was famous Harry Potter and his friends. He didn't know what he had expected to see when meeting Harry again, if he would have ever met him, but it wasn't this. The boy was, if you didn't look too hard at the scar or think of the story behind it, almost normal.

In fact, if you ignored the scar, changed the green eyes for brown ones and added some cockiness (to be fair, a _lot_ of cockiness), one would say without hesitation that it was James. And James had been perfectly normal.

Okay, perhaps normal wasn't the right word for it. After all, not every normal boy was friends with a werewolf and went so far as to change into an animal every month, but still: apart from that, he had been normal.

A smile crept up Remus' lips when he thought back at the time that James had finally told Lily that he was an animagus, and that every time she saw a deer wasn't so coincidentally at all.

And then there were Harry's friends. The girl seemed to have absorbed the entire contents of the Hogwarts library, and was attempting, by the looks of the gigantic book she was holding, to cram still more information into her head. The Ron-guy, the red-head, reminded him slightly of a guy he'd known at school. What was his name? Prewit? Prewett? Maybe this kid was family. The rhythmic sounds of the train together with the kids' whispers slowly put him back into sleep, this time a fast one.

He woke up when it started to rain outside; the glass he had been leaning against had become cold and he shivered tiredly. He recognised the scent of Cauldron Cakes in the compartment; the food trolley had already been past. Not that he would have had the strength to wake up and root through his trunk to find his last galleons in order to buy some candy; he still felt weak.

The discussion had turned to a heated debate over Quidditch teams. Ron was going on and on about his favourite team, while Harry made ironic comments. According to, the James-clone, who ought to know if he were half as obsessed with Quidditch as his father had been, the Cambridge Cannons did nothing but loose.

Suddenly he heard footsteps in the corridor and the door of the compartment opened. In the reflection of the glass, Remus saw three boys, or actually one blond boy and two massive, stupid-looking bodyguard-types standing on either side of him.

"Well, look who it is," said the boy in the middle. "Potty and the Weasel." The other boys started to chuckle as if on cue. "I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley. Did your mother die of shock?" the boy continued.

Remus flinched. They were definitely not good friends.

The girl in the compartment put her book away. Ron stood up, his fist clenched around a Quidditch magazine he'd been reading from earlier. In his haste, he knocked the cat's basket off the seat and onto Remus' foot. He gave a snort. Of course the basket had to land on the foot he'd injured last night.

"Who's that?" the blonde kid said immediately and Remus continued pretending to sleep.

"New teacher," said Harry. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"

"C'mon," muttered Malfoy and soon after he heard them leave.

Remus smiled. As far as his personality went, Harry fortunately didn't seem much like his father. James would have cursed the boy into oblivion, but Harry had managed to avoid getting himself in trouble while still getting rid of the kid.

"I'm not going to take any rubbish from Malfoy this year. I mean it." He heard Ron sit down and looked at the trio's reflection in the window. The girl had her book in her lap, looking concernedly at Ron, who continued, "If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and—"

The reflection in the window wasn't great, so Remus couldn't quite tell what Ron intended to do, but it was obviously violent.

"Ron!" hissed the girl, pointing to Remus (who closed his eyes the second he saw her pointing) "Be _careful_ . . ."

As if he was going to give detention for something the other boy obviously deserved. A Malfoy . . . probably related to Lucius, who was helping the ministry put up more rules against werewolves. Together with a woman named Umbridge, Lucius was at the very bottom of Remus' list of friends. Why couldn't people accept that werewolves were also people? Why wasn't everything simple, as it had been when he was at school? He had been able to cover up his condition; most people hadn't a clue what he was. But at the same time, his true friends had been able to figure it out, and had managed to come up with a way to help him. The sound of the rain and the train put him to sleep again.

"We must be nearly there," he heard at as he drifted back to consciousness. He felt someone leaning over him to look outside.

Suddenly the train started to slow down and he felt the same person (probably Ron) standing up.

"Brilliant," he heard him say, and it was indeed Ron. "I'm starving, I want to get to the feast . . ."

"We can't be there yet," Remus heard the girl say.

"So why're we stopping?" Ron asked.

The train stopped, and from other compartments came the sounds of falling luggage.

Remus heard someone opening the door into the corridor. Then without warning, all the lamps went out. The light that had shone through his eyelids vanished. He opened his eyes and gripped his wand inside his pocket.

"What's going on?" Ron said.

"Ouch! Ron, that was my foot!"

Remus heard the compartment door slam shut, along with a flurry of movement as Harry, Ron and the girl felt their way back to their respective seats.

"D'you think we've broken down?" Harry asked.

"Dunno . . ." came Ron's answer. The boy used his sleeve to wipe off a bit of the window.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard."

Immediately, Remus felt the hairs in his neck stand up. This wasn't good. The only creatures that could put out the lights and making him feel this way were . . . But that couldn't be . . .

The door opened again and with a gigantic crash, someone fell into the compartment.

"Sorry – d'you know what's going on? – Ouch – sorry –"

"Hello, Neville," Remus heard Harry say.

"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea – sit down –"

The cat made a hissing noise as the new boy tried to sit on it. The boy yelped and the cat fell to the floor of the compartment. The girl picked up the cat and stood up, putting the cat in her place. Judging by her faint outline, she was moving towards the door.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," she said.

She opened the door but apparently walked into another girl; Remus heard them both yelp squeals of pain, while he himself was being occupied by looking out of the window.

"Who's that?"

"Who's _that_?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron –"

Remus tried to listen for the rustling sound he expected to hear; it would confirm his fear: With the kids around him talking loudly, there was no way he was going to be able to hear it.

"Come in and sit down –"

"Not here!" came Harry's voice. "_I'm_ here!"

"Ouch!" That would be Neville, the boy who had just fallen in.

Unable to stand it any longer, Remus suddenly said, "Quiet!"

To his surprise, they obeyed him and immediate silence followed. Far away, he heard the familiar rustling. He had been right: there were indeed Dementors on the train.

He conjured some flames in the palm of his hand, to illuminate the compartment. Five pairs of frightened eyes looked back at him.

"Stay where you are," he said, and got to his feet. His voice sounded hoarse and he swallowed, though he knew the hoarseness wouldn't go away.

At the same time, the door of the compartment slid open. Before him was a huge Dementor. He could hear the thing drewing in a deep breath of air from the compartment.

Then the occasion went from bad to worse. Suddenly, Harry had fallen from his seat to the floor of the compartment, shaking like mad, as if the situation hadn't been weird enough. He looked as though he was having some kind of fit. It probably had something to do with the Dementor, but nevertheless, it was frightening, almost as though the boy was being tortured.

Trying to be braver than he was, he stepped over Harry, who was still shaking, looked at the hood and said: "None of us is hiding Sirius Black under his cloaks."

The Dementor didn't move; instead, it drew another breath and Remus felt the cold inside him become more intense.

"Go!" he said to the creature.

In the back of his mind, he saw flashes of the first time he became a werewolf and he shook his head. He had to think of something happy. Next to his right leg, he felt Harry still shaking on the floor and immediately he saw the image of James, Sirius, Peter and himself, waving in a photo he had kept in his apartment, now safely hidden in his trunk. He thought back to those happy days and immediately murmured the spell:

"_Expecto patronum_."

The figure turned away and disappeared into the corridor. Not a minute later, the lights on the train came back on. The Dementors had gone.

Remus turned around and saw the brown-haired girl and Ron kneeling beside Harry. The boy who had came in later was staring at them, and a girl with red hair, who appeared to be Ron's sister, was sitting in a corner, her knees drawn up to her chest as if she was trying to roll herself up into a ball.

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?" The brown-haired girl was trying to wake him up, but Ron seemed to have a better idea: he slapped him.

"W-what?" Harry's voice came from the floor. Remus looked at him. He looked even paler than Ron's sister and his glasses had fallen on the floor beside him. All five kids looked as though a bit of chocolate would do them a world of good. Remus turned back to his suitcase and pushed the lid a bit open, taking out a large bar of Honeydukes' best.

"Are you okay?" Ron said to Harry.

"Yeah. What happened? Where's that – that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron.

"But I heard screaming."

Remus noticed that Harry's voice was still faint, as if he was afraid they were playing a trick on him, and would reveal the Dementor at any second. Yep, it really was time for some chocolate.

He broke the bar, and everyone jumped and looked around to see what had caused the sudden noise. Breaking off a large piece, he handed it to Harry.

"Here," he said to Harry, who looked at him as if he were a ghost. Well, not a ghost; since they were quite common in Hogwarts, they wouldn't scare Harry any more, would they? His familiar green eyes pierced into Remus almost the same way Lily's had seemed to look straight through him every time she caught the Marauders planning a prank.

"Eat it. It'll help." He heard himself say.

"What was that thing?" Harry asked.

Remus cursed. (inwardly of course) Why was he the one who had to tell Harry about one of the most fearsome creatures ever?

"A Dementor," he said, giving the rest of the kids pieces of chocolate as well. Talking to Harry was a lot easier when he didn't have to look at those piercing eyes. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."

Suddenly, he had the full attention of every person there. Even the cat was staring at him, which made him quite uncomfortable. He put the now empty wrapper in his pocket. Too bad that he had to use it already; it had been his emergency candy bar.

"Eat," he repeated to the people sitting around him. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me . . ."

He walked towards the door, and as he closed it behind him he noticed that he had cold sweat on his forehead.

_Great_. In 24 hours, he had transformed into a werewolf and back again and started his new job. On top of that, he'd met the son of one of his best friends, all the while knowing that another, former best friend was trying to kill the boy, and saved the boy in an encounter with a Dementor, not a creature you would want to meet every day to have a tea-party with.

Whatever would happen this year, an interesting year it would be…….


	2. Back in the Castle

Remus sighed. He had just sent an owl to Professor McGonagall about Potter and the Dementor. He felt that, as Harry's Head of House, she needed to know that Harry had been attacked and had fainted. He knew that she would take some measures, and although Harry mightn't like it, Remus felt an odd bit of responsibility for him.

After that, he'd had an encounter with the driver of the train (who had told him that he had orders from the Ministry to let the Dementors on the train) and there was now no other reason not to re-enter the compartment where he'd seated himself.

Remus thought about Harry, and how he seemed to be the one most affected by the Dementor. How could it be? Sure, the Dementors were foul and loathsome, but why did he faint and the other ones didn't?

At the thought of the Dementor, he shivered, but it also brought an idea. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? Harry was more vulnerable to the Dementor because of his past! Who knew what kind of horrible images or things he heard when a Dementor came close? Remus himself could hardly imagine through what kind of horror his friends had been before they were murdered! And this boy had been there! Not that he would remember it, but his life was obviously more affected by it. Slightly distressed as to his lack of thought, he walked to the compartment and opened it.

The kids all looked up when he entered, and he smiled at Harry, who still hadn't eaten his chocolate, and was still very pale.

"I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know . . ." he said, and he saw James – no, Harry – take a bite.

When there was a silence, Remus continued, "We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you all right, Harry?"

The boy seemed to Remus to have more colour in his face than before, and seemed a bit embarrassed. Remus was as well; he had just called Harry by his first name, while Harry himself didn't know who he was. Harry did not ask, (thank God, thought Remus,) how he knew his name, but stared a bit, until after a few minutes the towers of Hogwarts could be seen outside. Remus resumed his seat by the window, looking out at the place where no one had known of his illness. Except, of course, Severus Snape.

At that thought, Remus unconsciously held his breath. It had been a long time since he had seen the man to whom he, with the rest of the Marauders, had once brought so much misery, and who had once caused them so much torture.

And when they stepped off of the train into the carriages, Remus knew that there would be at least one person who would not welcome him into the well-lit castle.

The ride to the castle made him a bit sleepy, but the pleasant feeling was quickly drained from him as the carriage rode through the gates, where two more Dementors were standing to protect the children from his long-lost friend.

When Remus stepped out of the carriage, he saw the three children being pestered again by the blond kid from the train.

"Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?" He heard the blond say.

The sense of responsibility resurfaced, and Remus stepped forward.

"Is there a problem?" he asked. He knew that if the kids had obeyed him in the train, they would certainly do so on the Hogwarts grounds. However, he had forgotten that the blond hadn't actually obeyed him; the trio and their friends had done so, not him.

"Oh, no-er-Professor," The sarcasm in his voice hurt Remus more than he would have admitted.

He followed Harry and his friends to the oak front-doors and into the Entrance Hall, when he suddenly heard an all-too-familiar voice.

"Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"

There on the stairs stood Professor McGonagall. It was hard not to laugh. Although Remus could see that she was definitely older, she still had the same stern look, the knot on the back of her head, and the same tone when she pronounced Harry's last name. The sound of "Potter!" being yelled over the humming of the student body was so familiar it nearly gave him chills.

From a distance, Remus saw that Harry and the girl were looking at the professor and that the red-head was looking from them to the professor.

"There is no need to look so worried – I just want a word in my office. Move along there, Weasley."

The red-head was looking now even more surprised, and Remus was also a bit inquisitive as to why McGonagall would need to see the girl.

Rather than dwell on it, he entered the Great Hall. When he proceeded towards the teachers' table, he felt a pang of pride. He had done it. With some help from a friend who had never abandoned him, he had become a teacher, a job that he had secretly wanted during his own schooling, but which would never have been possible then.

He sat down on one of the empty chairs, and felt a few eyes on him. Instead of looking back, he turned to his left, where Professor Sprout was sitting.

"Hello Professor Sprout," he said, hoping that they might start a conversation that might save him from facing the students. He didn't want to, at least, not yet.

"Well! Mr. Lupin! What a nice surprise to see you here! I hear that you will be doing Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Remus nodded.

"Well, what a brave young man you've become! It was a shame Dumbledore wasn't looking to replace me; you were one of the best in my class as I recall!" She laughed and Remus joined in.

"It is indeed a shame. But I also was quite good in Defence and when Dumbledore asked me, I couldn't say no of course, Professor."

"It's Pomona to you, my friend. You're one of us! I do hope that you know what you're up against: The person you're replacing left quite an impression on the children, seeing as he erased his own memory last semester. You're not scared, I hope?"

Before Remus could answer, little Flitwick walked up to the teachers' table, holding a hat and a stool and was followed by a group of first-years.

Remus noticed that just after the sorting, Harry and the girl from the train were taking the seats next to the red-head. Dumbledore stood up to make the traditional start-of-term announcements. When he started talking about the Dementors surrounding the school, Remus glanced to his right, and his eyes immediately found Severus Snape, who was staring at him, his eyes full of hatred. Without knowing what he was doing, he gave the man an apologetic smile, but this only seemed to make him angrier, so Remus turned around to face the house tables again. He felt Snape's eyes still burning on his back, but tried to listen to Dumbledore instead.

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. Firstly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Lupin smiled towards the children, and saw that the kids who had been in the same compartment with him, clapped enthusiastically. Other than that, his reception was rather lukewarm.

The rest of the feast went by in a flash. That Hagrid was also made professor wasn't a surprise, as Dumbledore had already mentioned it in his letter. Once they began to eat, Remus enjoyed the food almost as well as the company. With Professor McGonagall on his left, and Sprout on his right, there was plenty to hear and tell. While Minerva was telling him everything he needed to know about Hogwarts, his classes, and some special students (which answered Remus' question as to why Harry's friend had also gone to see McGonagall), Pomona was talking to him about old memories, while carefully avoiding the subject of what had become of all of his old friends. Remus thanked her silently for that.

When the feast was over, Remus saw a glimpse of Harry and his friends, rushing over to congratulate Hagrid. Suddenly, Dumbledore was standing beside him.

"Good evening, Remus," he said softly, smiling.

"Hello Professor Dumbledore," Remus replied.

"Remus. It's Albus now. Please walk with me to my office, I'd like a little word about the small precautions we will be taking for you."

Remus stood up and followed him through a deserted hallway.

"I understand you're already taking your position as a professor quite seriously." Seeing Remus' surprised expression, Dumbledore continued, "Minerva has informed me of what happened on the train."

"Well . . . yes . . . the students who were sitting in the compartment with me seemed to have some trouble with the Dementor."

The wrinkles on Dumbledore's face deepened a bit, but he continued.

"It was against my better judgment to allow the Dementors onto the grounds, but Cornelius insisted upon it, and I prefer to choose my battles. I was glad to hear that you were there."

Remus found it difficult to say something back. It was strange to call the headmaster Albus, especially after he had given him such a compliment. He nodded and smiled a bit, and Dumbledore continued, "A bit of a coincidence, don't you think, that Harry and his friends were occupying the same compartment?"

"Yes, quite the coincidence. Especially since . . ." He didn't want to finish his sentence, but when Dumbledore looked his way, he continued, stammering:

"Since . . . since the resemblance between him and James is so . . . so . . ."

"Striking?"

Remus nodded.

"Yes, well . . . Harry is a great deal like his father in many ways. The same Quidditch skills, the same disregard for the rules . . . But he does quite well in an area where James usually failed – modesty." The smile on Dumbledore's face grew wider, and Remus could do nothing else but grin.

They arrived at the gargoyles, and entered the stairs that led them to Dumbledore's office. The password was Abba-Zabba, a Muggle candy Remus had never heard of.

As Remus seated himself, he looked curiously about the office. It hadn't changed much since he was asked in after the prank his friends had pulled on Snape in 6th year.

Dumbledore poured some wine into a glass and handed it over to Remus.

"Remus, let me first tell you how glad I am that you accepted my offer of teaching here. I am absolutely sure that you will do a great job, and that you have enough knowledge to handle the position. No, let me continue," he said, when Remus seemed about to interrupt, "I think that it is important for you to know that I think very highly of you, and that I didn't give you the job as charity. You are skilled enough for it, and I thought that it would be wise to have you here, seeing how the . . . ah . . . circumstances . . . are. Your old friend Mr. Black is currently on the run, and although the Ministry is nearly sure that he is coming after our young Mr. Potter, you might also be a target."

Remus looked surprised. The possibility had never occurred to him. Certainly he had considered that Sirius might attempt to find him, but . . . murder? Remembering that Sirius had done much worse, he forced his attention back to Dumbledore, who continued.

"Now, concerning Harry Potter. I know that it is a bit awkward to be around him, especially knowing what you do. However, as Harry strongly reacts at the Dementors, I wish for you to keep an eye on him. As his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and as the last of his father's friends, it is your duty to look after him." Remus nodded.

"For the safety for those around you during the full moon," Remus shifted a bit and took a gulp of his wine, "I have also taken some actions. You have probably already heard of it, but there are some new products available against your . . . shall we say . . . furry little problem."

Remus was startled to hear the words of his old friend coming out of his former headmaster's mouth, but he managed to say, "The Wolfsbane potion. Yes, I've heard of it. I was one of the first to use it, when it was still being tested in St. Mungo's. But it is very difficult for even the most experienced brewers, and I was never terribly adept at Potions."

Dumbledore nodded and answered, "Yes, the procedure to make it is indeed a bit complicated. But I really find it necessary for you to take it during a full moon, so I have asked a person who is capable of brewing it to make it for you. You will still have to hide during full moon however . . ."

"Not the Shrieking Shack?" Remus couldn't quite hide the tone of horror in his voice; he definitely didn't want to go there anymore. Even the good memories of nights spent there with three Animagi had turned sour.

With a little smile playing around his mouth, Dumbledore said calmly, "No, that doesn't seem to be the best idea. The memories both you and the brewer have of that place aren't quite . . . good."

"The brewer?"

At that moment there was a knock on the door, and Dumbledore bade the person to enter. Just a millisecond after Remus realized who would have to be the brewer, the potion maker himself stood in the room.

Severus Snape.

"You wanted to see me, Albus?" His lazy voice seemed to stick a bit at the end of the sentence, when he saw who else was sitting in the office.

"Yes, Serverus. I wanted to discuss the matter of the Wolfsbane Potion in more detail."

"The Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Yes. I did ask if you could make it, didn't I?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"Well, then you can make it monthly for our new teacher here, can't you?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"Perfect!" Dumbledore smiled serenely at Snape, who still stood by the door as if he was made out of stone. Suddenly, he shook his head, gave Remus a look of utmost loathing and asked quickly, "But Albus, do you think that it would be wise to have an old friend of . . .him teaching here at the present time?"

"I trust Remus as much as I trust you, Severus. The only time when I wouldn't would be at a full moon, but seeing as the Wolfsbane will take care of that, I can now have no worries over the Defense Against the Dark Arts post." He smiled warmly at Remus and continued, "And I have to say, that that is quite a nice feeling, as I have worried over the post for quite some time now." Remus grinned. He had heard from Professor Sprout (it still felt a bit odd to call her Pomona) during dinner that there was a rumor that the Defense post was cursed. Dumbledore still smiled and Snape was still standing as though he were a stray bouler.

"Seeing as you will have to spend a great deal of time together this year, I would like to see you shake hands," Dumbledore said suddenly. He stood up and walked toward Snape. Remus followed.

"It will mark the fact that you will each forget the mistakes of the other," he said, while both men suddenly looked like two foolish little boys who hated each other and were forced to make up.

Remus felt Snape's cold hand and quickly let go. Snape's look hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Thank you both for that. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an early morning meeting with Cornelius. I will see you both at breakfast. Good evening."

And with that, Remus followed Snape out of Dumbledore's office.

They descended the stairs in an almost unbearable silence, but when the gargoyles opened for them to leave, Snape suddenly turned around, almost causing Remus to bump against him.

"Look, I don't know how you seem to have fooled Dumbledore, but you won't fool me, Lupin. If there is even the slightest hint that you're helping Black into the castle, you can count on it that I will investigate it thoroughly."

A hot wave of anger went through Remus. If Snape wanted to play this way . . .

"Do whatever you want. There won't be any evidence, because I am definitely won't be helping Black in to the castle. Yes, we were friends, yes we taunted you when we shouldn't have, but as Dumbledore said, we should forget about the past."

"That's easy for you to say. You got away with everything. If Black or Potter did anything, you never stopped them, did you? A bit easy to say that we should forget everything that happened, don't you think? Because when it was happening, you were either trying to ignore it, or you were helping them. And now I am supposed to act as though you wouldn't help him get in? Now I am supposed to help you during a full moon, _Moony_?"

"Well, _Snivellus_, if you want it that way, do what you can't resist, but don't say that I tampered with the Wolfsbane when I suddenly go wild and bite you!"

With that, Remus walked away. Speaking so lightly of biting someone was not his style, but if his face could express the anger he felt inside, steam would have been coming out of his ears.

Of course he had expected that Snape wouldn't welcome him with open arms. But accusing him of helping a mass-murderer . . . And why did he have to remember him about his old nick-name?

Then he softened a bit. Snape is just bitter, he thought.

He got to his office, and sat on his bed. Tomorrow the lessons would start – his first lessons as a teacher.

He pulled from his pocket his teaching schedule, which was quite full. The first and second years would take their classes with another house: Gryffindor and Hufflepuff together, and Slytherin with Ravenclaw. The third years and higher however, would take it with only their individual houses; the NEWT-classes were bundled again together. That meant that Remus would be teaching nineteen classes a week.

He looked at the schedule and sighed. Tomorrow, there was a first year class in the morning, a seventh before lunch and a fifth afterwards. It would be a rough day, and he actually should start with making a plan of action for the classes, but all he could do now was just lie down. Without undressing, without even taking of his shoes, he fell asleep.


	3. The Boggart

_Okay… it took a bit longer then expected (let's just say that I am a bit chaotic when it comes to me and technology and having multiple types of your third chapter standing on your computer) Huge thanks to LEAD, the editor of this piece who managed to create a bit of order in me about the sending of the right piece to her….. and also thanks because, she edited again :P_

_I will be flying of to Egypt next week, so I hope that I will update before that: If I'm not, you will have to wait for a while (I'll be back in 10 days, but then school starts:S:S)_

_And I still don't own Harry Potter: (insert cursing here)!_

When Remus awoke the next morning, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept so well. His hair and clothes were a bit messy, but he could live with that, seeing as they weren't new clothes anyway.

He got dressed in other, even shabbier robes and walked toward the desk he had in his chamber. There, he started to plan the lessons for the first, seventh and fifth years. The books for all of the classes were standing neatly in a row, on a shelf above his desk, and he looked through them to plan the day. For the first years he would have this morning, he decided that he would give up an essay where they could explain to him who they were and what they knew about his subject, and expected from it. It would also be their first lesson in the magic school, so a bit of practical magic would be nice. Leaning a bit back on his chair, he thought of his own first lesson.

It had been Transfiguration with McGonagall. They'd had to change a Lucifer match into a needle. No one had succeeded, except James, who had shone from pride. Once he had changed two of the matches, he started to lose interest in class, and used the needles to poke a red-headed girl's arm.

Remus smiled and shook his head; he really needed to get this done. The seventh years were the easiest; he would test them on what they'd learned their sixth year, and then he would use this year to revise everything they'd had before.

Then, for the fifth years after lunch, he would ask them what they had learned so far, and what there strongest and weakest points were: he would let them write it in class, and then he would plan his lessons around the topics they failed in the most.

He had it planned out in about ten minutes, and sat happily backwards . . . Then, knowing that it was still early, he decided that he could maybe also plan the lessons for the other years.

He would have to give the sixth years their first lesson in non-verbal spells: difficult, but always nice to see them turning red and looking as if they were trying to eliminate something very large from their system. He noticed that the book for the second years was full of defensive spells, and he decided that his first lessons would be about the infamous Expelliarmus and some nice little tricks such as the Bat-Bogey Hex. They might have some fun with those; his schoolmates certainly had. Then the fourth years . . . hmm . . . he recalled from his own school time that they would also be doing some defensive spells, but with a more serious note added to it. Explaining the Unforgivables . . . and maybe some info about Dementors wouldn't hurt . . .

That left him with the third years . . . He looked through the two books the third years had. The more interesting book was about magical creatures; the spell book was among the dullest he'd ever read. Remus decided that he would start with the creature book, and then see how far he would get. He turned a few pages and saw that the last chapter was about werewolves . . . a pang of pain shot through his mind . . . well, he would deal with that one later . . .

But how was he supposed to catch all those living Dark Creatures? He had a mental image of himself with a butterfly-net, trying to catch a Dementor, but laughed and shook it quickly away. He would find a solution for the third years later; first it was time for some breakfast.

Remus stood up, and walked to the Great Hall. When he went through one of the secret passage ways, he stepped naturally over a trick stair, then looked back and grinned. The trick step had been placed there when he was in school. To be more precise: James had thought that it would be fun to invent a trick stair. It had been one of his many ideas to get Lily. However Lily had not, as James had expected, been immensely grateful to him for helping her out of the step. She had seen right through him, had asked him which kind of spell he had used to make the stair suddenly disappear, and then had walked away.

Remus arrived in the Great Hall and sat at the same seat he had taken last evening. McGonagall was already sitting at his left, and smiled at him when he arrived. He smiled back, and then took some of the bacon that was in front of him. Just when he was about to take a bite of his toast, he saw that the blond kid . . . Malfoy, was it? . . . was pretending to faint. Just then, Harry walked into the Great Hall. He heard Minerva sighing and saw that she was looking at exactly the same things.

"Mr. Potter never seems to have it easy here," she said to him when he looked at her.

"How come?"

"Well, partly, because being famous for vanishing something as a one-year-old is never easy to cope with – he can't remember doing what he is so famous for. And two, Mr. Potter has a real enemy in Mr. Malfoy. They never make it easy for each other."

Lupin saw even from this distance that Harry and his friends were now sitting next to two identical figures with also red hair, who looked a bit older than the trio, and apparently were making Harry's clenched fist a bit more relaxed.

"And have you planned your lessons yet, Remus?" Professor Sprout – er, Pomona – suddenly asked.

Remus turned around and answered, "Yes, I have – I think that I have it almost done. I'm only having a bit of trouble with the planning for the third years."

"How come?" asked Minerva.

"Well, I would like to do some Dark Creatures with them . . . Kappas, Red Caps . . . But it's a bit hard to get those . . ."

Sprout nodded, and Minerva said:

"I happen to know a dealer in that business and I think you do as well, Remus. His name is Mundungus Fletcher."

Of course Remus knew him; Minerva knew that. Mundugus had served the Order during the War. He immediately got a mental image of Mundugus, standing in a shabby alley, selling grindylows . . .

"And while you try to contact him about getting some creatures, you can start with a boggart. There happens to be one that has moved into my closet this summer."

"That would be a terrific first lesson. Thank you." he replied.

"Yes, I would think so too. But I think you will agree with me when I say that I don't want any students in my personal chambers. So if you don't mind, you can move it to another, more suitable place."

Remus smile broadened at so much generosity.

"Oh, I know an excellent place for it, Remus," Pomona said suddenly. "There's an old wardrobe in the staffroom that no one really uses. You can put it in there!"

"Thank you both. I will certainly do that." He smiled at both the women next to him and received another rare smile from McGonagall. Relieved, he started to eat his bacon.

His first day had pretty well, Remus had to admit. The first years, were, as was to be expected, a bit scared and excited in their first lesson, but he just gave them a simple spell to try: the Patrificus Totalus. A few of the students were a bit disappointed that magic wasn't as easy as they had thought, but when he just asked them to write a short essay for homework, they were very relieved and Remus knew that he had made a good impression on them.

The fifth year Ravenclaws seemed to admire his teaching and were also not a problem, and apart from one incident with a seventh year Slytherin who was pretty rude before that, the day went by without any problems.

At dinner, he heard about the catastrophe of Hagrid's first day, and he felt sorry for the groundskeeper. He knew that Hagrid could teach a lot to these students, but would have a hard time keeping them in line. Hagrid had once spotted him and his friends sneaking into the Forest when they were fourth years; he had followed them, and if it hadn't been for Hagrid, Remus would have been maimed by the herd of centaurs. He wanted to help Hagrid, but the giant seemed to have taken refuge elsewhere; he was nowhere to be seen.

After dinner, he went to see his beloved library and took some books. Nothing had changed: the books were in the same, neat order, and the Librarian was still watching him closely, apparently not forgetting that at a winter day in his third year when his friends had thought that it would be funny to lean against a bookshelf so that all the rest toppled over like dominoes.

He walked over McGonagall's study, and while he waited for her to open the door, he recalled the time he had stood here under a certain cloak, trying to prevent Minerva from leaving while the others pulled a prank.

Not a few hours later, he had also stood here under a certain cloak, hearing from the inside of the office a lot of yelling directed at his friends.

McGonagall opened the door and said with a bit of a stern look she always seemed to have, "Remus! Come in please." She let him walk by and looked at the large box he had in his hands.

"I suppose that that is to carry the boggart in it?" When he nodded, she proceeded, "Good. Do you want to get started, or would you like a ginger newt first?"

He shook his head. Minerva might be his colleague now, but it still felt strange to be here without receiving some severe punishment after which he would leave. And ginger newts were still cookies that reminded him that he had done something bad and was being warned not to repeat his actions.

He walked to a chamber McGonagall pointed at, and opened the closet with a flick of his wand.

The boggart came out, and with a crack, it changed into a full moon. He repressed a sigh; after all those years, even the shape of the boggart hadn't changed.

"Ridikkulus!" he yelled, and he managed to not to expend too much energy vanishing the boggart. The only thing he wanted was to get the thing into the box.

That didn't seem to be a problem; Remus managed, without much trouble, to force the boggart into the box.

"Well done! I see that you still know your way with a wand!" Minerva said from behind him as he quickly closed the lid of the box. He smiled politely and excused himself, bringing the now thumping box quickly back to the staff room.

When he received the third year Gryffindors the next day after lunch, he saw when he entered that they had already taken their seats and that their books were on the table.

He placed his briefcase on his desk and smiled warmly.

"Good afternoon. Would you please put all your books back in your bags? Today's will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands."

The class obeyed him and looked curiously. Remus took a charmed paper out of his briefcase. When a student sat down, the paper showed a labeled chair. He noticed that a boy, sitting on the place labeled 'Seamus Finnegan,' was saying softly: "As long as it isn't be pixies, I'm happy." He waited politely until everybody had packed their bags again, thinking about a certain paper with the same spell. It had been confiscated by Filch. He really ought to try to get it back . . .

"Right then," he heard himself say. "If you'd follow me."

He walked out of the classroom, and the students followed him through the hallways, to the staffroom. When he turned around a corner, there was Peeves, hanging upside down, and stuffing a keyhole full with gum.

Forgetting that he was now a teacher, a devilish grin spread across his face. Peeves could be a terrific help with pranks, but he'd also been a favorite test subject for the Marauders . . . after Snape, of course. Naturally this wasn't something the poltergeist appreciated.

He walked closer. When he was two feet away, Peeves noticed him.

"Loony Loopy Lupin. Loony Loopy Lupin," he suddenly began to sing. At the sound of his last name, Remus remembered that he was now a teacher, and had a whole bunch of students behind him. He smiled at Peeves, and asked in his most polite tone:

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves. Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms." The students were watching him and Peeves as if they were at a tennis-match. If only they knew that we taught Peeves the trick with the gum . . . Peeves looked surprised, then blew a loud raspberry.

Lupin turned around to the class. This was actually a great opportunity to gain some respect. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

"This is a useful little spell," he told the class. "Please watch closely. Waddiwasi!"

The gum exploded out of the keyhole, catching Peeves in the face, who zoomed away spewing curses.

"Cool, sir!" said the boy who had seated himself next to Seamus.

"Thank you, Dean," Remus said, after peeking at the paper in his pocket. "Shall we proceed?"

He saw that the kids were less noisy and were looking at him in awe. He smiled more. This was definitely his day.

"Inside, please," he asked, when they arrived to the staff room.

He had anticipated a similar scene; there before him was Snape, lounging in the corner of the staffroom. Yesterday, he had put up a sign on the notice-board that he would use this hour for his class with the boggart. However, he knew, since his conversation with Snape the night of his arrival, that Snape would try to annoy him as much as possible. There was a nasty sneer around his mouth that confirmed Remus' suspicion.

"Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He stood up and walked past them, When he was at the door, he turned around and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advice you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Remus saw that one boy, who was standing not too far from Harry, turned scarlet and that Harry himself looked angry. Apperently, Remus thought, Harry and Snape aren't a good combination either. He decided that he would handle it in a polite teacher-way.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation and I'm sure he will perform it admirably."

Snape's lip curled, but instead of another sneer, he snapped the door shut.

Snape, zero, Lupin, one, the voice in his head cheered.

Suddenly he remembered that Neville looked very familiar, and he realized with a pang that he must be the son of Frank and Alice. That meant that Snape had not only said it to humiliate Neville, but also to remind Remus of the evil in Sirius' family, to which his old friend had apparently succumbed; Sirius' cousin Bellatrix had tortured the Longbottoms into insanity.

He turned to walk past the class and toward the old wardrobe. There was still one mystery no one (now) but he and Sirius knew. Ought he to tell the ministry . . . ? He shook his head. That wasn't possible. He would then have to make it public that he was a werewolf, and that he had abused the trust of the one person who had never let him down: Albus Dumbledore. He realized that he could never do that, and without thinking more about it, he started the class.

"Now then." The wardrobe wobbled a bit, and he saw a few students stiffen, and move a bit back.

"Nothing to worry about," he said calmly. "There is a boggart in there."

Neville thought a bit differently about that, Remus saw. The boy was giving him a look of pure terror. He wasn't the only one, either; there were several students looking at their teacher as though he had just grown an extra head. Remus just continued calmly.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboard under the sinks – I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock." His mind wandered for a few moments back to the only time he had been at Sirius' house, where there was a clock which had stopped telling time, as a boggart had taken up residence inside. Quickly he switched back to the class. "This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third-years some practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?"

Hermione's hand shot up like a rocket, and Lupin allowed her to answer.

To his surprise, she had apparently eaten the book they were to use in class; she gave the precise definition.

"It's a shape-shifter. It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

He saw the class looking half-annoyed, and half admiring. This seemed to be something she did with every question, so Remus reminded himself that he would have to try another student later.

"Couldn't have put it better myself. So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let hem out, he will immediately become whatever of us most fears."

Remus heard a frightened noise from Neville, but chose to ignore it.

"This means, that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Harry was looking a bit surprised that Remus had chosen him, and was definitely annoyed that Hermione was nearly bursting out with the answer.

"Er- because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," Remus said, and he saw that Hermione was actually disappointed that harry knew the answer.

"It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse, or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake – tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening." A few people smiled, and Remus knew that the little lie about him being there when such a thing occurred wouldn't be bad. If he told them that his best friend the mass-murder and his other best friend who'd been blown to bits by the first were the people afraid of corpses and slugs, and that his other best friend, the-father-of-the-boy-standing-in-front-of-him was the one who'd actually seen the boggart, it would quite ruin the moment. He continued his lesson.

"The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes of a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me please….. ridikulus!"

The class obeyed him "Ridikulus!"

"Good, very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The boy he had just addressed came a bit forward, but looked frightened to death. Remus hoped that this would work properly, because he knew that Snape would find a way to hear about Neville's presentation.

"Right Neville, first things first: What would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

There was a very faint whisper audible to Lupin, who stood next to him, but he saw from the class that they hadn't heard a word. That was all in one moment, because then, he heard the same voice cheering: Lupin, two, Snape, zero!

"Didn't catch that, Neville," he pretended cheerfully, while he thought about how he was going to handle this. He suddenly connected the dots: If Snape wanted him to realize what kind of impact Bellatrix had had on this boy's life, he would give Snape exactly what he wanted.

"Professor Snape," Neville repeated in a slightly louder.

The class was laughing, and Remus saw a rare grin on the face of the boy, who had been so frightened before.

"Professor Snape . . . Hmmm . . . Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er-yes," came the nervous reply, "But- I don't want the Boggart to turn into her, either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Remus, smiling. The plan in his head became clearer and clearer. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Glad to know the answer, but a bit surprised, Neville started to tell.

"Well . . . Always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress . . . Green, normally . . . and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

The class started laughing.

"And a handbag?" Remus prompted. He wanted this to be good.

"A big red one," Neville answered.

"Right then," he heard himself say. The class turned a bit more silent again. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," he heard Neville say in a bewildered tone.

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape. And you will raise your wand and cry 'Ridikulus!' and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, that green dress, that big red handbag."

The class started to laugh and Remus saw that the boggart was moving more violently in the wardrobe. He turned to the class; he had almost forgotten something.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to turn his attention to each of us in turn. I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most and imagine how you might force it to look comical . . ."

The students went quiet and Remus saw them each thinking hard. He tapped the paper, charmed in such a way that every child was carrying a name-label on the paper, which now also showed the exact location of the students. It had always been a handy little spell . . . He let his mind wander to how he could prevent the students from harming anyone in the following minutes. Remus looked at each of them. Ron had his eyes closed tightly and was whispering faintly; Seamus was staring at the ceiling. Lavender was looking at her own hands, Neville was staring a bit uncertainly at his fellow classmates. Remus knew that Neville probably found it a little bit unfair that the rest of the class didn't have to say their greatest fear in front of the class. Hermione was looking at her shoes and Parvati was inspecting her wand while she mumbled softly. Harry was staring out of the window . . .

Harry . . . what would his greatest fear be? Remus wondered. The boy had been through enough, but didn't seem very easily frightened. Perhaps it's Voldemort…

Before he could think any further he saw that most of the students were looking at him again, and were, apparently done with thinking.

"Everybody ready?" he asked. In his mind, he was still trying to find out how he could prevent Harry from showing his boggart. Voldemort caused full-blown panic among adult wizards; in a classroom it would be worse.

"Neville, we're going to back away. Let you have a clear field, all right?"

His mind was racing and to have a bit more control in the next situation, he said, " I'll call the next person forward . . . Everyone back now, so Neville can get a clear shot --"

The class moved away until they all stood with their backs against the opposite wall of the staffroom.

"On the count of three, Neville," he told the boy who was now standing alone in the middle of the room. Remus pointed his wand at the wardrobe.

"One -- " he saw that Harry stood somewhere along the line. "Two --" as long as he didn't tell him to, the boy probably wouldn't move. "Three!-now!" he told Neville, and his mind became completely focused on Neville and the boggart. The door of the wardrobe burst open and there stood Snape, sneer and all. Remus saw the boy stiffen and back away. The boggart came closer to Neville, who now stood as though he were made out of stone. For a moment, Remus thought that this was going very wrong, and that the boy would collapse at any second . . . and then he heard him squeak:

"R-r-ridikulus!"

The familiar whip-crack noise came and Snape tripped over his own robe. But wait -- the robe had suddenly changed to a green, lace-trimmed dress, while he also wore a hat, and carried a large crimson handbag. The class laughed their eyes out and Lupin saw the Snape looking confused.

"Parvati! Forward!"

The girl against the wall moved determinedly, while Neville joined his classmates. Remus watched Snape turn on her, and with the same whip-cracking noise, a bandaged and blood-stained mummy stood before them.

"Ridikulus!" Parvati shouted, and the mummy fell over his own bandages, his head rolling away. As he called the next student, it struck him that Parvati must have seen far too many Muggle cartoons as a child.

"Seamus!" he roared.

Seamus walked towards the boggart, and with a crack, the mummy suddenly changed into a banshee . . . She started to make an unearthly sound, but with a shout of "Ridikulus!" from Seamus, the banshee had lost her voice.

Crack, the boggart turned into a rat, crack, a rattlesnake, crack, it became an eyeball.

"It's confused!" Lupin shouted, who had thought suddenly of Mad-eye, upon seeing the eyeball rolling around on the floor. "We're getting there! Dean!" And Dean walked past Seamus to face the boggart.

Crack, the boggart changed into a hand. Apparently, Dean would get nightmares if he saw The Addams Family. Now that he thought about it: Remus hadn't seen that show anymore since he went to Hogwarts: Maybe it was really scary and he had just forgotten it.

"Ridikulus!" Dean shouted at the hand, and with another crack, the hand was suddenly trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent!" He said to his student and then to another one; " Ron, you next!"

Crack!

Remus heard some screams behind him, and he wouldn't be surprised if one of the girls had fainted. A giant spider came slowly toward Ron, his pincers clicking. How could Ron ever come up with something like that? His mind wandered. Ron seemed frozen, but just as Remus was about to intervene, the boy yelled: "Ridikulus!" and with another Crack, the eight legs seemed to disappear. It rolled and rolled, and Remus, looking at Ron's proud face instead of at the boggart, didn't notice soon enough that the thing was rolling past Parvati and towards Harry.

"Here!" He shouted just in time, and Remus moved quickly to Harry, who already had his wand raised high. With a crack, the boggart chose him, changing into a full moon. "Ridikulus!" he said, hoping that no one would make anything of it, and Crack, the boggart was at Neville's feet again, but now as a cockroach.

"Forward Neville, and finish him off!" he told the boy.

With a Crack, Snape was back, but not for long. Neville stepped forward, and shouted,

"Ridikulus!"

For a moment the vulture-stuffed hat and dress were back, but then Neville started laughing, and the boggart disappeared in wisps of smoke.

"Excellent!" Remus cried towards Neville, who was standing now proudly in the center of the room , while being applauded by his fellow students.

"Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. Let me see . . ..five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart- ten for Neville because he did it twice--" Remus would like to see Gryffindor win the House Cup and this was a perfect way to help them to get there- "and five each to Hermione and Harry."

"But I didn't do anything," the boy interrupted. Harry sounded a bit disappointed.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," he answered lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me. To be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

The class leaved, loudly discussing the lesson. Remus felt relieved that he didn't have another class this afternoon. He was exhausted, and felt stupid that he hadn't thought about Harry's boggart sooner. As he walked out of the room after replacing the chairs that had been knocked over by the giant spider, Professor Flitwick beamed at him.

Remus was about to close the door behind him, when suddenly he heard the high pitched voice of the tiny Professor saying, "I just saw your class and they were very enthusiastic. I suppose it went well, then?"

"Oh, yes, it went very well. Too well, actually," he mumbled as a reply.

Flitwick was looking at him questioningly and Remus said, to make it clear: "Neville Longbottom made his boggart disappear completely. I will have to find myself a new one before tomorrow morning, when I have the third year Ravenclaws."

Filius laughed.

"Well, then I will keep an eye open for you, Remus."

With that, Remus closed the door and turned around to walk back to his class. He almost bumped into Snape.

"I take it from the smile on your face that your class went well, even when I warned you that the Longbottom kid is a fool? Or did was his performance so abominable that you couldn't hold back your laughter in his presence?" The cold voice was filled with sarcasm and loathing.

But Remus had heard enough. Without saying anything, he smiled even more at Snape and walked past him. Knowing how the quickly the rumors spread in Hogwarts, Snape would find out soon enough exactly what had happened in the staffroom.

_Okay a bit long, but I didn't find a perfect place to cut in two different chapters…_

_Please tell me what you liked and didn't like about this chapter, and especially the character of Remus: Do you have a different view about him? Share, and if I think you are right I will try to change him a bit….. in other words: review!_


	4. Teatime and some Wolfsbane

_Okay, the 4th chapter!  Thanks for all the reviews and compliments! And ofcourse the usual editor thanks to LEAD, who makes sure that I won't make Lupin too immature:P_

_And I've been trying to take over the whole Harry Potter fandom, but it still didn't work… JK just won't give up her throne…_

_On with the story!_

In no time at all, Remus had made a syllabus for every class and was noticing that most of the students liked them. There were even kids, like Neville, who made a great deal of progress in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had been given another boggart the day after the lesson, this time by Filch, who'd apparently found it in the dungeons, nicely at home in a cupboard full of manacles and other assorted torture devices, which it had taken to rattling. He'd finally got round to sending a letter to Mundugus Fletcher, who had replied that more creatures could easily be obtained, "for a nice little price, lower for you because of our history."

It was still weird to see Harry taking his classes, laughing with his friends and still looking so much like a smaller version of James. But since there had been no dementor attacks after the train ride, he pretended that Harry was just one of the many students here, whom he was trying to teach.

Halloween drew near, and with it Remus' second transformation inside the walls of Hogwarts. The first time it had been weird. He knew what the influences of the Wolfsbane Potion would be, but he had to say, Snape was a first-class potions maker. Without wanting to, Remus' old enemy-by-association had helped him a lot. He had taken two goblets of the potion before the full moon, and locked himself inside his room. The transformation had gone better than he'd expected. He'd felt himself change, felt himself suddenly grow fur, but he hadn't become wild; instead, he had spend the night clawing at the foot of a table, like a dog, clenching his jaws around a bone. Remus was no longer scared that something would go wrong: he, like Dumbledore, trusted Snape and tried not to think of the number of times Snape might have wished he could add some poison to the elixir since hearing of Neville's boggart.

Because Snape had certainly heard of it. Remus noticed that Neville came to his Thursday class more timidly. He taught the Gryffindors after Potions lesson, so it was really no wonder. As if that hadn't been enough of a hint, Dumbledore had personally asked Snape if he had heard about "Lupin's wonderful first lesson for the third years" at dinner.

On the Saturday morning of Halloween, Remus had expected Mundungus to Floo in after breakfast with his newest subject: a grindylow. He knew that infiltrating the Floo network was impossible for a normal witch or wizard, but . . . well . . . you couldn't call Mundungus normal, and apparently he had found a way to do it, seeing as the kappas had been delivered through the fire.

But Remus got the fright of his life when he noticed a half dozen owls flying in, bound at different places to a huge package. There was a letter attached, and when Remus opened the large window in his study and motioned the owls to his classroom, he saw the messy handwriting spelling out "CArEful: frAgilE."

The ungainly sextet landed on his desk, and it took a great deal of time for him to free them. Finally, he ripped the paper away from the package and read the letter.

According to Mundungus, the Ministry was busy taking new precautions to make sure that Sirius Black – a pang of guilt stuck Remus – wouldn't enter the castle, so he'd had to send the new creatures by owl, and he expected Remus to pay the delivery fee.

This explained why he was being attacked by the owls as he read the letter.

The postscript told Remus that Mundungus had put some spells on the water basin, which was now unbreakable, but he wasn't sure they had worked.

Remus knew enough. He paid the owls (who kept picking at him until he paid enough, according to Mundungus' standards) and finished tearing away the paper.

There in the tank was what was unmistakably a grindylow.

He smiled, and with a wave of his wand, he levitated the tank from his desk to a corner of his classroom.

There was suddenly a racket near his window and he looked outside. A lot of older students were standing in a large, extremely disorganized group, waiting to go to Hogsmeade. His eyes quickly found Harry's messy hair, so familiar from years ago, but to his surprise the boy turned back to the school after his mates got permission. He remembered the conversation he'd overheard at dinner between McGonagall and Sinistra: Harry had asked McGonagall for her permission, as his Head of House, to go to Hogsmeade, but she had refused. Apparently, the Dursleys hadn't signed, and Minerva had told Sinistra that "under these circumstances," she was glad they hadn't.

Remus had a slightly different view of the subject. He felt that James' son ought to have the right to see Hogsmeade. Half of the prank supplies had been bought there and at least a quarter of all the pranks they had ever pulled on their fellow students were done there. Remus knew that the circumstances were not nearly the best possible, but Harry had earned the right, just as all the other third years had, to go and buy as much as rubbish as they wanted.

He considered letting Harry know of the locations of certain passages to Hogsmeade, but immediately tossed that idea aside. He was Harry's teacher and was supposed to watch him, not his best friend who could help him to get into trouble. He had once again made the mistake of switching James with Harry. He forced into his head the belief that if Harry went to Hogsmeade, something terrible would happen . . . but even as he thought it, he remembered the person who had caused so much of this destruction.

Suddenly, he remembered that he would have all day to find out what exactly had happened to the Marauders Map; maybe he could start with distracting Filch, and then sneak into his office . . . behave like a teenager again . . .

At the same time he felt a bit of doubt rising. The Map would bring a lot of memories with it, and he didn't know if he wanted to have them back. On one hand, it would be great to think back on his peaceful time here, but Remus also knew that it would make him sad, thinking about the old times, when the Marauders' friendships were now torn apart.

James dead, Peter dead, and both by the hand (indirectly or directly, it didn't much matter) of a third Marauder. And he, Remus, had seen it all begin to happen and had (just as with their pranks) done nothing to stop it. To think, he'd called Sirius his friend for seven years . . .

Suddenly, he felt his heartbeat rising, and his face turned pale. What if Sirius had the Map in his possession?

What if -- his heart now almost stood still -- what if he used the Map to get to Harry? He stood up quickly from his chair, and walked toward the door: He really had to find out if Filch would still have that document.

Remus opened it, and saw -- _just my luck_ -- Harry standing on the stairs.

"Harry?" Without doing it purposely, he had spoken.

Harry turned around and looked at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, rather surprised. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" No sooner had he asked than he remembered the answer himself – he'd seen it just now, from his office window.

"Hogsmeade," Harry replied, more than a little bitter based on his tone of voice.

"Ah," he said, not knowing what he should do next, attempt to retrieve the Map, or talk further to the obviously bored, irritated Harry.

"Why don't you come in?" he asked. The decision to invite Harry in had taken a second at most; this was his best friend's son, after all. "I've just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson."

"A what?" Remus saw him looking curious and he motioned him in.

"Water demon. We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers?" Harry nodded. "Strong, but very brittle." The grindylow swam behind some seaweed. "Cup of tea? I was just thinking of making one," he lied, while trying to find his kettle. He noticed how normal the boy was, despite all he'd been through. Dumbledore was right; Harry definitely had more modesty than his father.

"All right," Harry said, clearly somewhat uncomfortable. Remus found the kettle, filled it with water and heated it to its boiling point with a tap from his wand and a non-verbal spell.

"Sit down," he asked, suddenly recalling his discussion with McGonagall about Harry's disastrous first Divination lesson. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid – but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?" He smiled and Harry looked surprised.

"How did you know about that?"

"Professor McGonagall told me," he said honestly. "You're not worried, are you?"

"No," the boy said simply, turning his attention to the grindylow.

"Anything worrying you, Harry?"

"No." The grindylow was putting on a fierce show; he imagined Harry must think it rather frightening, or at least disturbing.

Then:

"Yes," Harry said suddenly, putting his tea down. "You know that day we fought the boggart?"

"Yes," Remus said slowly, trying to figure out where Harry was headed with this particular question.

"Why didn't you let me fight it?" asked Harry abruptly.

Not expecting this, because he had hoped that Harry hadn't noticed that day, he raised his eyebrows.

"I would have thought that was obvious, Harry," he said, avoiding the question. Should he say that Dumbledore had asked him to help keep Harry safe? Or could he just say . . . because that would be part of the reason . . . And wouldn't be a lie . . .

"Why?" Harry asked again.

"Well, I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."

He saw Harry staring at him, his mouth open. Remus had obviously been wrong about the shape of Harry's Boggart, and he admired Harry more.

"Clearly I was wrong," Remus said, frowning a bit at the thought that he had handled the entire situation incorrectly. "But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staff room. I imagined that people would panic." He watched and saw that Harry didn't flinch at the sound of Voldemort's name. He'd heard it before, then, from someone – probably Dumbledore.

"I didn't think of Voldemort. I – I remembered those dementors," he blurted out.

If Remus Lupin had been a cartoon, his jaw would now be on the floor. Fearing a dementor? That meant that Remus had seen the boy already at his weakest. He felt rather ashamed of thinking back then that Harry might be a weak person.

"I see," he answered thoughtfully. "Well, well . . . I'm impressed," he smiled and said with perfect honesty. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is – fear. Very wise, Harry."

He saw that Harry looked a bit embarrassed at this compliment.

"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the boggart?" he said.

"Well . . . yeah. Professor Lupin, you know the dementors – " Harry was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," called Remus. He had expected him, but wasn't happy to see him now he was talking so animatedly with Harry.

Snape entered, carrying a smoking goblet in his hands. Remus saw his eyes narrowing at the sight of Harry, to whom he gave the same look of loathing he always used on Remus. _Maybe that's just his way of looking, _said a voice in his head, which he tended to doubt. Surely there was someone . . . but then again, perhaps not.

"Ah, Severus," he heard himself say. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Snape did so and then let his eyes wander between Harry and Remus, as if questioning why two of the people he hated most in Hogwarts were sitting in the same room when they didn't have to.

"I was just showing Harry my grindylow," Remus said as an answer to the never asked question by Snape.

"Fascinating," Snape said, not trying to hide the sneer a bit. "You should drink that directly, Lupin," he added.

"Yes, yes, I will."

"I made an entire cauldron full, if you need more." Snape continued, as if he wanted Harry to hear as much as possible, and was trying as hard as he could to waken his curiosity.

"I probably should take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus." Remus tried to make the note of finality in his voice as absolute as possible.

"Not at all," Snape grated through his teeth and walked out, _Probably wishing the most horrible things on us all . . ._ He then focused on Harry, who was clearly quite curious. Of all the times for Snape to come in . . . that had to have been the worst.

He smiled and tried to come up with an excuse for the whole situation:

"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me. I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex." _Well, no lies told . . . so far . . ._

He picked up the potion and sniffed it. "Pity sugar makes it useless," he said, suddenly speaking his thoughts. He took a sip and shuddered; he always forgot how very bitter the partial solution to his problem was.

"Why – ?" Remus could see that Harry wasn't satisfied with his explanation, and he interrupted:

"I've been feeling a bit off-colour. This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it." He took another sip and congratulated himself again for having avoided telling any real lies.

Harry still looked somewhat worried and blurted out:

"Professor Snape's very interested in the Dark Arts."

"Really?" said Remus between two gulps of the bitter potion. That wasn't news to him. Snape had been interested in the Dark Arts since he'd come to Hogwarts as a first-year.

"Some people reckon –" (he saw that Harry was choosing his words carefully in his head) "some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," he finished, as Remus drained the rest of the goblet's contents. He shuddered again, and pulled a face.

" Disgusting," he said, referring not only to the potion, but also to its brewer. He felt an odd chill and knew that he would shiver and feel ill for the rest of the day.

"Well, Harry, I'd better get back to work. I'll see you at the feast later."

"Right," Harry said, looking at Remus as though he were completely mad. He put his teacup down and left the office.

As Harry closed the door behind him, Remus smiled. He had found a new similarity between James and Harry: their hatred for Snape.

Remus locked himself into his chambers that night, feeling safe enough, not thinking about the warnings Harry had tried to make about Snape (obviously not realizing the common history between the two), and not knowing that the last of his best friends was at that moment entering Hogwarts and attempting to break into Gryffindor tower.

_Well, tell me what you like and don't like about it. _

_But before you do, I want to tell you all that I will go on a holiday to Egypt for ten days and that after that, school starts.. in other words: the updates will probably be a bit slower, but I will do my best to keep this story alive!_

_xxx-mokimik-xxx_


	5. Standing at the sideline with scratches

_Hey guys, I'm back. And while I was, my beta wasn't standing still and she edited this piece that I have made just before I left…Hope you like it!_

_Ow, because I was away, I forgot to change my name into Rowling….. So I'm still not her…._

_On with the story!_

When Remus awoke, it was to the sound of a very loud knocking at the door of his office. Clearly the person outside had no regard for other people who hadn't gotten more than four hours of sleep . . . such as himself. Groaning, he lifted himself up and limped over to open the door. Naturally, it was Snape, who had come to retrieve his cauldron. The man (Remus had to stop himself from thinking _slimeball_) drew back as he glanced at Remus. When he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror, Lupin nearly did the same. Of course, it was not the first time since he had become a werewolf that he had badly scratched his own face. But it had never been a pleasant sight, and Remus hadn't even started to think about how he would explain his appearance to his students.

"Did you do it yourself, or is your old friend the fugitive responsible?"

Remus looked up. Was Snape going to start again about Sirius? How many times did Remus have to say that he wasn't friends with the traitor anymore?

"Before you start your whole speech about not helping Black," Snape said, as if he had read Remus' mind, "I wanted you to tell the latest news about your _friend_ myself. Apparently, Black has found a way to enter the castle. Although I'm sure you already knew."

Remus didn't hear the last remark; the second had caused his heart to stand still. This couldn't be true; Snape was obviously lying to him. But . . . it was possible, much as he wished it wasn't. When Remus didn't reply, Snape said, clearly enjoying his role as the bearer of bad news, "He nearly got into the Gryffindor Common Room."

Unconsciously, Remus gulped. Then the rumours were true! Harry really was in danger! And he had been a werewolf, locked in his office instead of helping the rest of the staff capture Black . . . Snape interrupted his thoughts.

"He escaped, of course. Always manages to get away, doesn't he?" Remus wanted to say that twelve years in Azkaban isn't exactly getting away with one's crimes, but then he realised that Snape was talking about their times in school, and he couldn't argue against that: Black (it hurt somewhat, even after all these years, to call someone who had been among his best friends by his detested last name) had always been the one who got away with most of what he did. Peter had been the person who was almost always caught red-handed . . .

"When I saw you with Potter yesterday, I assumed that you would care more about his safety than the to let in the person who wants to kill him."

"I would never let Black in, Snape. We've discussed this," he said, fists clenched.

"It's lucky for you," the tone of his voice suggested he wanted nothing more than to make Remus very _unlucky_, "that Dumbledore still believes that cock-and-bull story."

Remus snapped.

"What do you want, Snape? Why are you still here?"

"I want to know how you're planning to teach with such interesting scratches on your face," he answered. Truth be told, he didn't sound remotely interested.

"Well, firstly, I would need someone to report this to Dumbledore."

"Not going yourself, then?"

Remus' patience was wearing thin. "That would rather defeat the purpose, as a student might easily see me."

Snape sneered. "I'll tell him of your . . . injuries."

With that, he walked out of the room and Remus sighed. He had the feeling that Snape was about to do something horrible . . .

And he had guessed right. In five minutes Snape came back with Dumbledore, who decided that Remus couldn't teach in his state. Today was a Sunday, but it was obvious that the marks wouldn't disappear before the end of the week at least. Remus would have to hide in his chambers until the scratches were gone and Snape had volunteered to cover his classes. Surely no good could come of it; clearly, Snape had not made the offer out of kindness.

When they had disappeared, Remus cursed. He would be locked up in his study for the rest of the week, where he could hear the students being bullied by Snape, thought he could not hear the material being covered.

He felt imprisoned, and the thought that Dumbledore was locking him up to prevent him from "helping" Black crept up in his mind once or twice.

His meal was brought by Madame Pomfrey regularly, and Remus felt like that little first-year again, lying in the hospital wing to rest after his transformation. Pomfrey hadn't changed a bit since his years at school; she still had the same stern look about her . . . Not the same as McGonagall, who could kill you with her gaze, but more as an impersonator of the professor, who didn't quite succeed.

The rest of his "free-time", as he had heard Snape saying to his classes, was spent hearing how the students dealt with Snape, and feeling too ill to do something about it. That included the students' questions of why Snape was teaching Defense, then the quick docking of points from the relevant house to get some order, followed by the silent lessons, with only Snape's comments about how terrible Remus was as a teacher remaining audible.

Remus hadn't done his job badly; Snape had just never asked for the lesson-plans Remus had made at the beginning of the year. He would gladly hand them over, but Remus figured that Snape didn't really want them. What he did want was to enforce the idea that Remus was a lousy teacher. And Remus let him. He knew, or at least hoped, that his students would know better, and that he was in their eyes a pretty good professor.

Staying in his room was hard, but it was even harder when Remus heard that the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game was going to take place during the coming weekend. He had looked forward to finally seeing Harry fly; if he was to believe Madam Hooch, Harry's flying skills were superb, possibly even better than James'. And she would know – she had played keeper against James during her time at Hogwarts and had seen him send the Quaffle through the hoops quite a few times.

Remus had heard a lot of students complaining about the match: apparently, Gryffindor was supposed to be playing against Slytherin, but thanks to Hagrid and the infamous hippogriff lesson, Slytherin couldn't play as their Seeker was injured. Remus was sure that Hagrid had played a big role in the injury, but the Ravenclaw sixth year whom he heard complaining certainly thought so. Remus knew about the whole incident with Malfoy. And he also knew that if Malfoy was anything like his father (and when one looked at the unnaturally light blond hair one couldn't help but think he was), the whole thing was probably just a set up. In one fell swoop, the kid had probably destroyed Hagrid's new-found teaching career as well as prevented himself from having to fly in the inclement weather.

The week crept by very slowly. With only his thoughts, memories, and the sounds of the nearest class to entertain him, he was very soon depressed; who wouldn't be if one's mind was endlessly making up conspiracies, one's memories made one realise how screwed up everything was now and the sounds of the classroom made one want to forget that, much as he hated the fact, he needed Severus Snape for the potion? And to make matters worse, the wounds on his face took longer than usual to heal. Clearly, he would have to stay in the whole weekend.

The Friday before the Quidditch match, Remus heard from the other side of the door what would be his favourite third year class entering his classroom: there were the usual babbling noises, students pulling out (and dropping) books, the rustling of parchment. Apparently, the rumour of Remus' illness hadn't spread through the whole school.

"Please take your seats everyone," he heard Snape's cold voice say. There was a murmur, and Remus heard Dean asking Seamus "Why's the crack-pot giving this lesson too? Can't he just rot in the dungeons and leave the rest of us alone?"

"Professor Lupin has not left any records about his lessons. We will therefore start with a new topic. Turn to . . ."

"Sorry, I'm late, Professor Lupin, I –" He heard Harry's voice and the opening of the door.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

Curious to hear Harry's reaction, Remus opened the connecting door very slightly, and looked at the scene below him (to enter his personal chamber through his classroom, people had to climb up the stairs.)

"Where's Professor Lupin?" he heard.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," came Snape's standard answer. "I believe I told you to sit down?" Harry wasn't moving.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked.

"Nothing life-threatening," Snape said, rather as though he wished it _were_ life-threatening. For a moment, Remus could have sworn that Snape was looking in his direction. "Five more points for Gryffindor and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Harry moved to his seat at the front, next to Hermione and Ron.

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far –" Remus knew for sure that Snape glanced at him as he said this. He couldn't care less, though; Snape probably knew that he was bored to death and that he would hear anything through the thin walls anyway.

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas and grindylows," Hermione interrupted Snape with her voice on top speed. "And we're just about to start –"

Snape wasn't thrilled by the interruption.

"Be quiet. I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organisation." Remus was rather irritated by this comment; he had always been the most organized of his friends, and the lessons he had planned were lying on his desk. Actually, the lessons were almost under Snape's nose (not very coincidentally, seeing as half of the world could fit under that abnormally large nose).

"He's the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Dean said and the rest of the class murmured in agreement. Remus felt his heart swell at that comment, but he knew that Snape wouldn't appreciate the comment as much as he did.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardy over-taxing you – I would expect first-years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss . . ."

With a nasty feeling in his stomach, and fearing what would come, he saw Snape turning to the last chapter of the book: the chapter on . . .

"— werewolves."

Remus was barely able to stop himself from dashing down to take over the lesson himself . . . maybe a nice little practical session about how to strangle a former Death Eater would be fun for the third years.

"But sir, we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks –" That, of course, was Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I was under the impression that I was teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page tree hundred and ninety-four." Nobody moved and the class fell silent.

"_All_ of you! _Now!_" Snape said with an even more deadly edge to his voice.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?"

Snape seemed to be getting more amusement out of this than was natural; he looked to be about half a minute away from telling them all the awful truth. Remus' already clenched fists were getting, if possible, even tighter.

Yet Snape had, at least of yet, said nothing. He looked through the class, ignoring the usual occurrence of Hermione's hand shooting up into the air as soon as the question was asked (in fact, the question hadn't even been completely out of his mouth when Hermione raised her hand).

"Anyone?" If he hadn't been glowering at everyone rather dangerously, Snape would have looked stupid: Hermione was in the middle of the front row, putting her hand, now waving slightly, almost directly into Snape's line of vision.

However, Snape merely smiled (Remus could not restrain the mental swearwords that began to erupt in his head) and continued, "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between –"

"We told you, we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on –"

"Silence! Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognise a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are . . ."

Remus was reminded of his own werewolf class in second year; it was not long afterward that his friends had discovered his secret. It had been in one of the last weeks of the term; they'd had to write an essay, and suddenly everything fell into place for his fellow Marauders.

"_WHY did you never tell us?"_

_Yes, that's a good point, James. Tell, me, Remus…Did you really think that you could hide such an important part of your life from us"_

"_Well…. I…"_

"_I mean…You can't have such big secrets for us! I told you everything about my horrible mum!"_

"_Yes! And I told you about the girl I like, Remus! (no Sirius, I'll tell you later!) And here we were, believing every word of your monthly sick mother. Even buying flowers so you could bring them with you!"_

"_I mean, Peter and me even considered that it would have something to do with severe, deathly PMS!" Peter nodded._

"_I didn't want you to think that I was a freak! I wanted to be normal, and have friends…." He had answered lamely. They had been silent for a while, and then James had said:_

"_Why would you ever think that we wouldn't want to be friends with you, when you would tell us?"_

"_Ehm… do you have an hour?" Sarcasm had been his best friend._

"_No, we won't have an hour. We will go straight to the library to find a cure!" Sirius had yelled. _

They obviously hadn't found a real cure, that day or any other, but Remus had found some friends he knew he would never lose . . .

Except that he had.

"Please, sir," The voice from Hermione downstairs woke him from his day-dreaming. "The werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf –"

"That's the second time you've spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Remus felt the urge to stand up and prevent Snape from bullying his students more, but he heard that he didn't need to: the class was entirely on Hermione's side and loud mumbling was heard from downstairs.

"You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

A voice suddenly boomed through the room. Remus thought it was Ron Weasley.

After that, there was a deafening silence.

"Detention, Weasely. And if I hear you criticise the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

Remus couldn't take it any longer. He slowly closed the door and moved away from it. He sat at his desk, and unrolled a long piece of parchment, where he had carefully documented his lesson plans. Slowly, he started writing in his careful script, pretending that it was necessary to have everything planned until the end of June.

Finally the lesson was over. Remus heard that Snape was keeping Ron to discuss his detention, and then left the classroom. It was already the weekend and although that wouldn't change anything about his situation, at least he wouldn't have to endure Snape's comments.

The scars started itching like mad on Saturday morning, when the thunder was slamming against his eardrums. According to Madam Pomfrey the itchy feeling was a good sign; at least, that's what she told him when she came to his office to check up on him.

"Yes, yes, Remus, they seem to be healing just fine. In a few more days, I should that no one would be able to tell."

"Too bad concealment charms don't work on werewolf-bites. I could attack my face again next time . . . and frankly, the idea of staying in this room for another week is enough to drive me mad," he sighed.

"Well, I may have something for that. It just came in . . . it's a sort of liquid, designed to keep gnomes out. Wizards who grow their own vegetables in their garden spray it on the fences. Somehow, it repels the gnomes."

Remus looked at Madam Pomfrey as though she'd just told him she was in the process of growing wings and was planning to fly to the moon. Based on the explanation, she apparently equated his condition to people trying to keep gnomes out of their gardens. Not only that, but she expected him to apply it to his face!

"I altered the ingredients a bit myself, so it should prevent you from scratching yourself. I'll give you some next full moon."

Remus smiled somewhat falsely and nodded at Pomfrey's enthusiam. This was the most idiotic idea he had ever heard, including all James' schemes to make Lily fall in love with him. Maybe Peter had been right when he said that hospitals were where the government performed mental experiments. But they must be using nurses as test subjects these days.

Before he could come up something grateful to say, there was another thunder clap, and a nearly simultaneous knock on the door. As Remus turned his face to the wall, so the person on the other side wouldn't see his face, Pomfrey opened the door.

"Madame Pomfrey, Dumbledore sent me, he says to come quickly, Harry's been attacked by dementors and he fell off his broom!" Remus recognized the tearful voice of Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister, a second year who had mastered the Bat-Bogey Hex during her first Defense lesson with him. The words had come out of her mouth at such a speed he was hard-pressed to understand what she'd said.

"Merlin! Potter again? Protecting that boy is a full time job!"

Without another word, she dashed out the door with Ginny close on her heels. As the door closed, Remus sighed. So Harry had fallen off his broom and been attacked by dementors. He wished more than ever that he had been there to do something. But, as always, he was forced to sit on the sidelines, watching while people he knew were hurt . . .

By Sunday evening, the great gashes across his face had faded into pale scars, and Remus was able to eat dinner in Great Hall. He heard the whole story from McGona . . . erm . . . Minerva. She looked emotionally affected, and not only because Gryffindor had lost to Hufflepuff.

"Yes, yes, Potter gave us quite a scare. He was flying towards the Snitch; Mr. Diggory was ahead of him. Then the dementors came . . . Dumbledore says they couldn't control themselves with all the excitement in the air. And . . . well . . . Potter is affected more by those things than any of us. He fell . . . What was it, Pomona­? Fifty feet?" – Pomona nodded while helping herself to more mashed potatoes – "He just kept falling, it seems, and I've just heard from Filius that his broom was caught by the wind and swept into the Whomping Willow . . . thoroughly destroyed, it was . . . not that that is the worst of the whole situation, of course, but I remember that I gave that broom to Potter myself, and his teammates say he was very fond of it." She paused to take a sip of her pumpkin juice.

"What happened to Harry after he fell?" Remus reminded her of the main subject.

"Well, Albus of course interfered. He was furious. I've never seen him so angry before. Falling is just as much a part of Quidditch as anything, but the fact that the dementors got involved . . . it's quite ridiculous." Seeing Remus gazing at the headmaster's empty chair, she said, "He is now at the Ministry, demanding that there will be some measures taken to keep the dementors in check. I quite agree with him, but I'm not sure the Ministry will. They're convinced that their presence is for the best. Especially after that attack on the Fat Lady.."

A knot formed in Remus' stomach. He really had to find out what happened with the Marauders Map . . . He suddenly realized that Minerva was speaking to him.

"Remus? Do you happen to know what makes chocolate work so well to counteract the effects of the dementors?"

"What? Oh, well, it's quite simple," he said, snapping back to the present. "Even the muggles know. There is a kind of stuff in the chocolate that makes you happy; I seem to recall it's in butterbeer as well. I hear that Honeydukes is trying to get the stuff out of the chocolate, to put it in more of their products."

Minerva looked pensive for a few moments and then said: "Yes, I suppose I could have figured that out myself. Poor Harry," she suddenly said, and Remus almost choked in his drink. This was really not something he had ever expected to come out of Minerva's mouth.

"I really wouldn't like to be in his shoes right now. With everything he has experienced in his life, having Black on his tail . . ."

Minerva seemed to have forgotten that she was sitting next to a man who had been friends with said mass-murderer.

Remus swore that he would protect Harry better, as Dumbledore had asked. And his first task was to find the Marauders' Map.

The same night, he went to Filch. Remus knew it was the last known location of the map; Lily had insisted that they give it to Filch on their last day of school. The thing would be useless to them once they left Hogwarts, "and Filch can use it to catch . . ." "future kids who like adventures," James had interrupted.

Finally, they had agreed that they would put the map on the caretaker's desk ("If he knows who it's from, he will give us detention, even if we're already finished with school," Peter had said) and that the Map would be closed ("Lily, stop pouting. We won't give our greatest achievement away to Filch so he can use it against future Marauders.").

"A map?" Filch said.

"Yes. The last day that I was here as a student, we . . . I mean, I put an empty piece of parchment here, with a note, saying that it was confiscated and highly-dangerous, signed by McGonagall," Remus said impatiently. The office was even smellier then in his school days and Filch gave him still the creeps.

"Well, if it was from McGonagall, why don't you ask her?" Filch asked, clearly not understanding what Remus had said.

"No, it was not really from McGonagall. We . . . I mean, I put it here, saying it was from McGonagall."

When he saw the blank stare on Flich's ugly face he sighed. "Look . . . can I just look through these drawers?" He motioned with his head to the wall behind him, where all the records of misbehaviour were kept.

Without waiting for permission, and ignoring the sputtering sounds from Filch, he opened a drawer where the title, 1970-1980, was dribbled on by some unidentifiable substance. But besides a lot of memories (he had forgotten that they had tried to paint the Slytherin table in Great Hall red and gold, along with all the Slytherins who were sitting there), he didn't find a trick piece of parchment. Filch had left; probably checking the corridors. His eye fell on a drawer with the words _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous._ He opened the drawer and smiled; half of the stuff in it wasn't dangerous as the title would lead one to believe. Behind the fake snakes, the dungbombs and the Fanged Frisbees, there were some pixie eggs, and feathers that were probably covered with Firewhiskey, judging from the familiar smell that came from the drawer.

No parchment, however.

"Still here, eh?" Filch's voice made him jump.

"Yes, but I was just going," Remus said, realizing he wouldn't find the map in here.

"Ah, that drawer? The filthy miscreants won't see any of that back, there's things in there going back to when you were in school, I'll bet. Haven't opened that drawer since those bloody twins stole something out of it . . . never could prove they'd swiped anything, though . . ."

Filch was mumbling more to himself and his cat than to Remus, and the latter decided that it was really time he got going.

He let his eyes wander over the names on the drawers, and saw that under every title was a sticker with a few names, apparently designating the top troublemakers of the era. His name, along with those of the other Marauders, was on the drawer he had opened, as well as on a few others (altogether, the files on the Marauders seemed to take up almost an entire filing cabinet) and he saw that the newest drawer didn't show the years in question, only the legend "Weasley, Fred & George." With a sigh, he thanked Filch and walked out of the door back to his own rooms. The map was obviously missing. But was it really in Black's hands? Remus could easily believe that when they had put the map in Filch's office, Black might have come back to retrieve it. After all, the guy seemed to do a lot when everyone's backs were turned. But how could he still have it? He couldn't have taken it with him to Azkaban; if he had, it would have been confiscated there . . . Was it hidden at his old flat, or his mother's house, and had he retrieved it since his escape? But both of those houses were being watched: Even his own home had been watched by Aurors in the week before Hogwarts. Sirius couldn't possibly have the map. That left Remus right back where he'd started: If Black didn't have the map, then who did?

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he set us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves –"

"—_Two rolls of parchment_!"

Saying that it was a delight to get back to work that Monday would have been a huge lie. Remus had to endure every class's complaints about Snape. At this moment, it was the third-year-Gryffindors.

"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Remus heard himself ask. He pretended that he hadn't heard a single word form their class; he couldn't let them know he'd been in his office the whole time.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind –" Parvati began.

"—he wouldn't listen—" Seamus yelled.

"—_two rolls of parchment_!" Ron shouted again in a panicked voice.

He smiled and looked at his students. This came out actually very well. As long as the students were too indignant to write the essay, they'd never work anything out . . . although he doubted most of them would be able to connect all the dots, at least at this point.

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay," he said, looking at the students' overjoyed expressions.

"Oh _no_. I've already finished it!" Hermione said, disappointed. Remus thought that he saw a glint of something unidentifiable in her eyes, but the next moment it was gone. He'd probably imagined it . . . overreacting to the whole situation.

He proceeded with the planned lesson on hinkypunks. The class was silent and took notes for most of the time. Remus looked at Harry, who still seemed to be a bit pale from his adventure the past weekend. As he walked trough the class he saw that Harry's notes contained remarkably a lot of doodles about a broom, and there was even a sketch of the Whomping Willow on fire.

When the bell rang, Remus had made up his mind. He had to know how Harry was.

"Wait a moment, Harry. I'd like a word."

He concealed the hinkypunk with a red cloth over the cage and then started to pack his books into his suitcase, not exactly knowing what he would say to the boy.

"I heard about the match," he started lamely, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"

When he asked the question he suddenly heard Flitwick's word from that morning: _That broom resembles nothing so much as firewood and matchsticks._

"No, the tree smashed it to bits."

Remus sighed. He felt responsible for the whole situation; the tree had been planted there for his sake.

"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts," he suddenly heard himself blurting out. "People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance." He subtly left out a few facts: for instance, the fact that the whole incident had been a rumour Dumbledore had spread to keep everyone away . . .

"Did you hear about the dementors too?" Harry asked, his voice now quite soft.

"Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry," he said, remembering his talk with McGonagall. Then he stared out of the window, where he had a view of the horrible creatures stationed at the main gate.

"They have been growing restless for some time . . . furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds . . . I suppose they were the reason you fell?" Hopefully, this would assure Harry that he thought of him as a fairly skilled flyer.

"Yes," came the answer. Harry looked hesitant, and then he asked suddenly, "_Why_? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Remus heard himself say. He didn't want to see Harry doubt himself more. He had enough trouble as it was. "The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have." He saw that he had Harry's full attention. "Dementors are amongst the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory, will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will prey on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself – soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences in your life. And the worst that has happened to _you_, Harry," he said, now turning his attention to back to the boy sitting in front of him, "is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

He saw that Harry understood, and that he had a bit more colour on his cheeks.

"When they get near me," he said, in a small voice, "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."

Remus stood not an arm's length away from this boy, who had seen such horrors in such a short time . . . More then ever Remus felt an urge to hug him and tell him that he knew far more about his parents than Harry suspected. He wanted to tell Harry everything he could remember about Lily and James, and how proud his parents would have been. He saw that his arm was already outstretched, to pat Harry's shoulder, but then he remembered he was a teacher, and not the right person to tell Harry the story about Black and his parents. Not Harry's best friend, who could tell him a secret that would probably make Harry furious for not knowing all those years. He really wanted to help the boy, but no matter what he did, Harry would have questions. And Remus couldn't stand to tell him about his past, he who looked so much like one of those he had allowed to be murdered.

"Why did they have to come to the match?" he heard Harry saying bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," he answered, automatically snapping back into teacher-mode. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up . . . I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch pitch. All that excitement . . . emotions running high . . . It was their idea of a feast."

"Azkaban must be terrible," Harry said, and Remus nodded. His uncle had spent one night there because he had stolen some brooms and had tried to smuggle them to the Netherlands. He was never the same after that . . .

"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad in weeks." His uncle'd had, according to Remus' mother, a very unhappy childhood and had gone mad in a single night.

"But Sirius Black escaped from them. He got away . . ."

Remus felt the book he had started to put in his briefcase slam against the back of it, and with a quick movement, he prevented the thing from falling. _Great…. Just my luck….Exactly the person I've been trying to avoid discussing, and the person asking is the one I would least like to discuss the subject with. _

"Yes. Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible." _Although there are quite a few things I wouldn't have believed possible . . . but they happened anyway, didn't they? _"Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long . . ."

"You made that dementor in the train back off."

"There are – certain defences one can use." He saw that Harry suddenly looked somewhat hopeful, and he continued. "But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist." But the damage had been done. Remus remembered seeing the kind of glint in James' eyes; though they'd been very different eyes, the effect was certain to be similar. No good had ever come of that look . . .

"What defences? Can you teach me?" _You see? Never any good of that glint in a Potter's eye . . . _

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry – quite the contrary . . ." he broke off just in time. He had wanted to say that seeing as his condition had given him far more depressing memories than happy ones, he had more difficulty than most defending himself against dementors.

Harry hadn't noticed though. "But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them –"

Remus looked at Harry's face, which was pleading and full of hope. He wanted to help the boy, protect him, but at the same time, the urge to tell Harry all he knew became worse in his presence. On top of that, he didn't want Harry to discover what he was . . . Then he heard Dumbledore's voice in his head, asking him to keep an eye on Harry . . .

"Well . . . All right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill." Harry looked at him with a beaming smile, thanked him, and walked out of the classroom.

This would give Remus two full months, and two transformations, to come up with a plan for the lesson. And it would also give him two full months to come up with a way to keep his mouth shut in Harry's presence.

_Okay, I hope you liked the chapter. For those of you who think that I think too movie-wise with the whole bedroom is next to the classroom, I had that in my mind before I saw a potter-movie. And I also had the idea that Snape was not only tormenting the class, but also Lupin, who he knew could hear every word. Reviews will get reply:D:D_

_Ps: Egypt was wonderful:P_


	6. Memories and a Dementorlesson

_Hey! So, a fast update! You have to know that I didn´t enjoy this writing….. There can´t be a lot of own input in the dementor-scene…. Still, one of the best scenes in the book, so hopefully also one of the most meningfull-ones in my story….huge thanks to Lead again, who is helping so much, and who now also takes the time to edit the first chapter as well…._

_School started…. I'm not sure how fast or slow I will be with all the school-stuff…. I think it will depend upon the stress and my mood…:p_

_The project of Taking over the world and trying to become JK Rowling still isn't making progress, but I will keep you up to date when something happens….._

Unfortunately for Remus, time flew when one was having fun. Much as he had fought taking the liquid from Madame Pomfrey, it seemed to help with the transformations. And aside from full moon nights, the Dementors outside, and the twisted Potions master inside, that's what Hogwarts was: fun. Remus had found his calling; teaching was delightful. It felt like second nature, and the students seemed to do really well under his guidance; Remus caught Ginny Weasley red-handed blasting a particularly cruel Slytherin with an exceptional Bat-Bogey Hex, and couldn't help the feeling of pride that crept up his throat. Remus hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

He regretted that one of his transformations fell during the Christmas holidays. It would have been very nice to go to Hogsmeade and enjoy the festive dinner at Hogwarts, but, well, one couldn't have everything.

The only thing that worried him slightly was Hermione. During the practical lessons, she had gone from being very good to performing rather poorly. The bags under her eyes were dark, and she was very jumpy during Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus blamed it on the time-turner, and spoke to Professor McGonagall about his suspicions.

"Miss Granger knows that she can give it up whenever she chooses," was her short answer.

"We both know that Hermione is far too ambitious to give it up. She wants to prove herself by taking all these extra classes . . . but she doesn't seem well . . ."

Minerva gave him a sharp look; her gaze seemed to pierce right through him.

"Well, I will keep an eye on her. But as long as I don't hear any other teachers complaining about Miss Granger . . ."

"Complaining about Miss Granger? Dear heavens, why? The girl seems to know everything!"

Professor Flitwick marvelled.

"So she doesn't seem absent or jumpy in your class?" Remus asked.

"No, of course not. I think you are worrying a bit too much, Remus. You are probably looking for a problem, since you have all your other problems under control," Flitwick assured him with a little wink.

On Christmas Day, when he was recovering in bed from the previous night's transformation, he suddenly heard a knock on the door.

He stood up, limping slightly; his inner wolf had apparently found a better meal that his face – his left leg. When he opened the door, McGonagall stood there, her cheeks a bit flushed because of the coldness of the corridors.

"Merry Christmas, Remus. I hope you liked the book I gave you," she said, in her usual stern voice.

"Ehm… yes, it was a good present," especially when you compared it with the other presents: From Dumbledore a pair of socks, made of what seemed to be wolf-fur, (that man always had a strange sense of humour), a great sack of caramels from Hagrid (he was sure his teeth would never feel the same) and a kettle of flobberworms from Snape (well . . . that was . . . unexpected).

He realized that he hadn't asked Minerva to come in, and quickly remedied his rudeness by asking her inside. She entered, and his eyes fell on the broomstick she had brought with her:

"Wow, is that a _Firebolt_?" Without doing it on purpose, his mouth gaped at the magnificent broom.

"Yes, I think that Mr. Potter would have reacted the same way," she said even more short and stern. Remus didn't know if she meant James or Harry – the comment could be for both. "I came to ask you if you might perhaps have sent this broom as a Christmas gift to anyone you know."

Remus really didn't want to, and he knew that it would irritate McGonagall, but he started to laugh.

"Minerva, that broom costs my year's salary."

The transfiguration-professor blinked, stunned.

"Are you quite serious? Who would spend so much money on a broom just to give it to someone without a note?"

"I have no clue. All I know is that it wasn't me. Whose did you say this is?" Remus now asked a bit curiosity.

"Mr. Potter was sent it for Christmas."

"What? Harry? By whom?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said? There wasn't a note attached to it, according to Miss Granger. So naturally I couldn't help but wonder . . ."

"If it was Sirius Black." Remus finished her sentence dully.

"Indeed. He probably would have hexed the broom, and Filius and I will try to find out what's wrong with it. I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn't have anything to do with it."

"No, it wasn't me."

"Alright. Well, good day then, Remus."

With that, she left, leaving behind a very worried werewolf.

When the classes started again, Remus noticed that Harry and Ron seemed not to be speaking to Hermione. It probably had to do with her going to McGonagall about the Firebolt, seeing as the professor had confiscated it until further notice. Remus honestly didn't know who he felt more sorry for: Harry, who had the best broom ever but couldn't use it, or Hermione, who had no friends speaking to her and lower grades than usual, just because she had done the responsible thing. When the third years' lesson ended that Monday, he saw that as the rest of the class filed out of the room, Harry was still there, slowly packing his things. Having used the same ruse many times himself, Remus knew immediately that Harry wanted to speak to him – and he had a very good guess as to what the topic would be.

Remus had thought about how to teach Harry the Patronus Charm, but hadn't yet come up with a satisfactory solution. He actually needed more time, but when Harry asked, it was obvious that this was something the boy really wanted to do. He, Remus, would just have to hurry up and figure something out. Besides, he had a feeling that he was trying to find ways to get out of the agreement, because he still had his doubts about the private-lessons. But on the other hand, a promise was a promise, and he couldn't let Harry down.

"Ah yes. Let me see . . . . How about eight o'clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough . . . . I'll have to think carefully about how we're going to do this . . . we can't bring a real Dementor into the castle to practise on . . . ."

Harry thanked him and walked away with Ron, who had been waiting at the door. Remus was left to contemplate exactly how he could go about teaching Harry the Patronus.

By that evening, he had found a solution, but executing the plan was a whole different story. What they needed was a Boggart. If Harry had been honest with him, it would turn into a Dementor, and they could use it to practise. The problem was that after his lessons about them, the whole castle seemed to be Boggart-free.

Posting a bulletin ("Boggart Needed!") on the staff-board wasn't a bad idea, but it didn't give him much help, especially not when some colleagues came to him personally to tell him that they really couldn't help.

"But why do you need another one? I thought you had already done the subject in your class?" Pomona asked at dinner.

"Oh, well, a few of my third years need some revising in the subject, and actual practise is better for them than just, you know, learning the theory behind it," he had answered vaguely. Remus didn't really know why he didn't tell her the truth. Perhaps because people would think that he was favouring Harry, or that he was trying to become a friend, rather than a teacher. All he knew was that the idea of people knowing didn't sound right.

Wednesday evening rolled around, and he still hadn't found a Boggart. He decided that looking for one himself would be more reliable than just asking around, so that night, he took a walk through the castle. He followed a narrow corridor to one of the dungeons, and looked in every corner in the hope of finding one. But he didn't succeed. All he found was a memory about how he had walked here with his friends, talking about the previous night, when the other one had become Animagi.

He recalled that the seventh floor had its fair share of dark corners as well, so he walked up the stairs and found himself going automatically to the painting of the Fat Lady. But she wasn't there. Remus' first thought was that he must've gone in the wrong direction (it had, after all, been several years since he'd been to Gryffindor Tower), but he almost immediately remembered that the Fat Lady was too scared to do her job after what had happened on Halloween. Unintentionally, Remus smiled, remembering that the Fat Lady and Sirius had never gotten along. He had found James and Sirius standing near the portrait one evening when he came back from his prefect-duties. James was leaning against a wall, obviously bored and irritated. Sirius, however, was in the middle of huge argument with the Fat Lady. Apparently, she was refusing to let them in; the password had changed a few minutes before, and they didn't have it. He remembered that Sirius had said that he would get some "muggle liquid" and wreck her painting (he was probably talking about turpentine). This didn't seem to help. Fortunately for the locked-out twosome, Remus had known the new password.

He looked for a moment at Sir Cadogan, but when the painting was eying him suspiciously back, he walked into another corridor, which led to the divination classroom. Not wanting to meet Trelawney again (a few weeks ago she had begun mumbling about his death and all that nonsense), he decided that the whole expedition had been for naught, and he turned to go back to his room. After taking a shortcut through a secret passage he remembered from years ago, he walked towards his chambers at the second floor and closed the door behind him. As the door clicked shut, he was struck by the urge to rifle through Filch's cabinets again. He felt the strong urge to recall some more memories, and what memories were better than the mischief-ones?

That thought was enough to drive him out of his room. He descended the stairs that ended into his own classroom and walked one level lower toward Filch's office. The door stood slightly ajar, and Remus could see that no one was there. With some hesitation, he walked in and opened one of the drawers marked "Potter, Black, Pettigrew, Lupin." The oil-lamp hanging from the ceiling didn't give off much light, and Remus couldn't read the titles on the maps that were in it. He closed his eyes and picked a random file. In it, there were several dozen pages, filled with, as Filch called it, 'crimes'.

_Date: 3-10-1972_

_Names: James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin. _

_Crime: Covering the floor of the Charms corridor in lobalug droppings. Suspected to have done the same a week ago using muggle hair-gel. _

_Suggested Punishment: Fifty lashes each._

Of course they really hadn't been whipped. They'd had to scrub the hospital wing without magic every day for a week, but when they had made more trouble and mischief there (he remembered vaguely that it had something to do with changing the medicines of the people who were lying there ill), the rest of the week had been spend in detention instead.

_Date: 15-10-1972_

_Names: James Potter, Sirius Black._

_Crime: Charming vials of potions to follow Slytherin students and smash in said students' faces._

_Suggested Punishment: Bread and water ONLY for four weeks._

Before Remus could recall that particular occurrence, the office-door creaked open and Filch stumbled in. Mrs. Norris was circling around his legs, looking accusingly at him, but before he could explain himself (how _could_ he explain that he had felt the urge to look into old files?) Filch spoke:

"Ah, Lupin, I just went by your office to look for you, but apparently you already got the message from Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yes, I asked him to tell you that I have found you a Boggart. But you didn't come, so I thought that I would go to your office to see if you still wanted the thing."

He blew his nose with an unpleasant sound into a handkerchief he had pulled out of his pocket (and that had, by the looks of it, never been washed).

Then he pointed at a drawer at Remus' left and said, his voice slightly muffled from the handkerchief: "There he is. Discovered him yesterday, while I was polishing the chains."

Remus looked at the drawer. The Boggart seemed to feel that people were staring at it, because it wobbled a bit, and Filch took a step backwards. Remus was quite relieved; Filch had just given him a terrific excuse for why he was there.

"Do you have a box, something I can carry it in?"

Filch nodded, and started to poke around behind his desk. He gave Remus a large packing case, which, if the smell were anything to go by, had once held cleaning supplies. Remus was al ready happy that the box didn't smell like old fish: as apparently, the rest of the office smelled.

He opened the case and the drawer, and forced the Boggart into its newest location. The whole thing was getting to be rather routine.

"Thanks," he said, picking up the box and making his way out of the office. He was not sure if Filch had heard him. The man was once again blowing his nose with a sick making sound; he obviously had a cold.

At eight o'clock the next day, Remus took the box and walked over to the History of Magic classroom. After all, Binns wouldn't mind (if indeed he even noticed), and the room was bigger than his own classroom. Harry was already there, waiting for him. Apparently, the boy found the lesson very important. Remus wasn't sure if that knowledge ought to make him happy or nervous. He settled for a combination of the two.

He smiled at Harry and put the Boggart on the teacher's desk.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"Another Boggart. I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practise on him," he explained to Harry, who nodded. "I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like," he said.

"Okay," said Harry, eying the box nervously.

"So . . ." he took out his wand and motioned that Harry do the same. Then he thought about the book he had been reading during the Christmas holiday about Partoni and he said:

"The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry – well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."

"How does it work?"

"Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus, which is a kind of anti-Dementor – a guardian which acts like a shield between you and the Dementor. The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it." He saw the eagerness in Harry's face. "But I must warn you, Harry, that the Charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"What does a Patronus look like?"

"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it."

"And how do you conjure it?"

"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."

Clearly, Harry was trying to recall an appropriate memory. "Right," he mumbled after a while.

"The incantation is this –" He cleared his throat for the right pronunciation. "_Expecto patronum!_"

"_Expecto patronum, expecto patronum," _he heard Harry murmur.

"Concentrating hard on your happy memory?"

"Oh – yeah – _expecto patrono_ – no, _patronum_ – sorry – _expecto patronum, expecto patronum—_"

Remus had expected that Harry would get the Patronus eventually, but not this fast. In fact, he'd planned that they would spend tonight's lesson practicing without the Boggart. However, at Harry's last words, they both saw a shimmer of silver gas whoosh out of the end of his wand.  
Remus was perplexed. Some seventh years had managed to do the same in his classes, but only after a whole hour of murmuring.

"Did you see that?" Harry asked excitedly. "Something happened!"

"Very good," he said. Then, feeling a bit bold, he asked:

"Right, then – ready to try it on a Dementor?"

"Yes," came the determined answer.

Remus walked to the case, looked at Harry and opened it.

The moment the Dementor came out of the box, Remus could see that he had made a mistake. Fear was evident in Harry's eyes; there was no way he was ready for this. The lights in the room went out . . .

"_Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum! Expecto _—"

Remus saw Harry's eyes roll backward and a moment later, there was a sickening _thud_ as his body collapsed to the floor.

Without waiting any longer, Remus forced the Boggart back in the case with a shout of "_Riddikulus!_" and relit the lights in the classroom. Cursing himself for letting Harry face the Dementor so soon, he walked over to Harry, and shook him slightly.

"Harry!" His eyes – Lily's eyes – jerked open.

"Sorry," he murmured, sitting up. Remus had the odd feeling that Harry had said sorry at the same moment that he himself had intended to do so. He saw that the boy had sweat on his forehead, and that even his bed linens had more colour than the pale face in front of him.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes . . ." Harry pulled himself up and was now leaning heavily against one of the desks on the front row. Quickly, Remus searched his pockets for the chocolate he had brought with him.

"Here – eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it first time," he said, when he saw the look of disappointment on Harry's face. "In fact, I would have been astounded if you had," he added.

"It's getting worse," Harry muttered in reply, and Remus knew immediately what he was talking about. "I could hear her louder that time – and him – Voldemort —"

Remus could feel the colour draining from his own face. How could Harry muster up the courage to learn this if doing so meant he would hear his mother dying with every attempt?

"Harry, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand —"

But he hadn't even finished the sentence before he knew that Harry wasn't about to give up; he had a familiar determined glint in his eyes . . .the same one James had when he had been stubborn . . .

"I do! I've got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!" he said fiercely – or as fiercely as one can while one's mouth is full of Chocolate Frog.

It was not easy for Remus to allow him to continue. "All right then . . .You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on . . . that one doesn't seem to have been strong enough . . ."

Harry closed his eyes, frowning slightly. Remus wondered what memory he was thinking of, but he knew it was none of his business.

When Harry opened his eyes again, still with that determined look, he asked:

"Ready?"

"Ready," came the answer, out of a face that was twisted with concentration and still some fear.

He walked towards the box, opened the lid and yelled: "Go!"

Again, the lights went out and the same coldness as a few minutes filled the room. Remus saw that the Dementor was extending one of his rotting hands toward Harry . . .

"_Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum! Expecto pat —"_ With the same thud, Harry landed on the floor. It took Remus some time to get the Boggart into the box; he was very close to Harry, and Remus couldn't think of anything funny enough to _Riddikulus!_ the Boggart at once.

When he'd returned the Boggart to the box, he flicked his wand, putting the lights back on, and rushed over to Harry. He was lying on the floor, twitching.

"Harry!" Harry didn't react as fast as the first time, and Remus tapped him harder on his face.

"Harry . . . wake up . . ."

Slowly, Harry's eyes opened again and looked dazedly around. He sat up a little, and his face was still twisted, but not with determination as it had been.

"I heard my dad," he suddenly mumbled. "That's the first time I've ever heard him – he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it . . ."

Every word Harry spoke tore at Remus' heart. The world seemed to have gone tilted and fuzzy. This was why he'd had doubts about giving Harry private lessons. All the pain . . . and he couldn't help . . . Harry seemed to have tears on his face, but Remus couldn't see them too clearly, as his eyes had suddenly become watery as well. Not just for Harry, but also for the people he heard.

"You heard James?"

"Yeah . . ." Harry looked up at Remus. "Why – you didn't know my dad, did you?"

He cursed himself for revealing so much, but at the same time he knew he couldn't lie about it.

"I – I did, as a matter of fact. We were friends at Hogwarts." Harry's expression was hard to read, and Remus felt that he himself could not possibly take any more of this today. "Listen, Harry – perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced . . . I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this . . ." he heard himself rattling.

"No!" came the answer and Remus looked up. He couldn't believe that Harry, who must be feeling ten times worse than he was, would still want to continue . . . Harry stood up again.

"I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is . . . hang on . . ."

And before Remus could say anything, Harry had closed his eyes again and was thinking determinedly. After a while, Remus saw that his muscles were relaxed and that Harry was even smiling a bit.

"Ready?" he heard himself say uncertainly when Harry opened his eyes again and looked at him. He really didn't want to do this, but at the same time he knew that stopping Harry wasn't an option right now.

"Concentrating hard?" he walked to the box – "Ready?"— he touched the lid – "All right – Go!"

He pulled the lid off again and for the third time, there was a Dementor standing in the room. For the third time, the lights went out and the temperature in the room got colder . . .

But there was a Harry in front of him whom he had never seen; the look on his face was one of concentration and willpower, mingled with tenacity.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!" The Dementor was coming closer to Harry, but now he seemed to be more prepared. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Suddenly, Remus saw that there was a bit of silver gas coming from Harry's wand: Harry himself looked as if he might faint any moment now, but for a few seconds, Remus saw that the gas did indeed work as a barrier between the Dementor and Harry. With pure amazement, Remus watched the situation . . .

It was only when Harry's knees started wobbling dangerously that Remus snapped back to reality and realized that he needed to do something to prevent Harry from being overcome by the Dementor again.

"_Riddikulus!_" he shouted. He forced the Boggart back in the case; it turned into a silvery moon immediately, but Remus was far too happy for Harry and the progress they had made to feel fear for his Boggart-shape at the moment. He closed the lid, then turned around and saw that Harry was sitting on the nearest chair, as exhausted as one could possibly be.

"Excellent!" he said, walking towards him, feeling the weird urge to hug him again. "Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!" It seemed as though the words caused Harry to forget his tiredness.

He sat up, asking, "Can we have another go? Just one more go?"

"Not now," he said, wondering where the boy could possibly come up with more energy. "You've had enough for one night. Here –" He pulled some chocolate out of his pocket and gave it to Harry. "Eat the lot, or Madame Pomfrey will be after my blood." He didn't mention that he had purchased the chocolate as a Christmas gift for Harry, but had felt too awkward to actually give it to him. When Harry accepted it, a little disappointed because they had to stop for tonight, Remus asked: "Same time next week?"

"Okay." Harry took a bite. Remus stood up to extinguish the lights.

"Professor Lupin?" Remus didn't turn around, but merely nodded. "If you knew my dad, you must've known Sirius Black as well."

He turned around so fast that he heard the bones in his neck crack. His insides turned cold as ice, and quickly (and not very convincingly) he asked: "What gives you that idea?"

How much did Harry know about his dad? Did he know the whole story? _No, he can't, if he did he would know about the Marauders . . . _Did he know about Peter? Did he knew that Siri . . . no, _Black_ was his godfather?

"Nothing – I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts, too . . ."

Remus relaxed a bit, but he still felt his heart thumping . . . So much for knowing the whole story . . . He just had to give a short answer back . . . He had known him alright . . . but not so well as he'd thought.

"Yes, I knew him. Or I thought I did. You'd better be off, Harry, it's getting late."

With that, Harry bade Remus goodnight, and left the classroom. The moment the door closed, Remus felt like his body was too heavy for his legs, and with a _thud_ he fell to the floor.

Being around Harry stirred so many emotions . . . And giving private lessons doubled them. He was happy to see that Harry was brave, kind, stubborn and witty (Remus didn't know which parent he had inherited this from more) and at the same time he felt that his heart bled every time he saw the boy. The kid had had a rough time. It was so unfair that Remus could have spent so much, and Harry so little time with James and Lily . . . And it all could be traced back to that terrible Halloween night . . . If Remus could have done something . . . it didn't matter what, so long as it had been something . . .

He didn't know how long he sat there . . . after a while he got up, grabbed the case with the Boggart and walked to his room. Trying to forget that Harry had just heard James and Lily die and hoping that he could abandon his emotions for just one moment, so he might get some sleep . . .

_When I read the piece in the book again to write it in Lupin's perspective, I only fully realized how much emotion is hidden behind this scene……_

_Hope you liked it, and as always, reviews won't hurt me….. they will make my imprisonment in school only more enjoyable…:P_


	7. Kisses, Quidditch and a Murderer

_Okay, before you start cheering that there is another chapter: This is not one of my best. I don't know if it is because of school, or because this were hard scenes to write, but the truth is that I'm not happy with it. Huge thanks to Lead, who had the tough job to edit this, without making it entirely different. _

_I have given up hope to take over the world and become JK. I'm from now on just mokimik, who hublebly (Is this a word?) uses JK's characters…._

_On with the story!_

Remus had always gotten used to the weirdest things: The fact that he grew fur every month, the fact that people didn't like him, no matter how nice he was, the fact that he had to keep his being a werewolf a secret. Giving Harry Potter private lessons now also fell in that category. Indeed, Remus had not gotten much sleep after the first night, but fortunately, the following lessons weren't so emotional, so intense, as the first one. Harry had managed every time to put some sort of shimmer between him and the Dementor, which gave him no further flashbacks, and which gave Remus no more nightmares imagining how terrible that Halloween night had been. Remus still didn't know exactly what Harry knew about his parents and the Marauders, but he didn't mind: as long as he didn't have to explain himself, he was fine with it.

On one morning, while he was reading the Daily Prophet during his breakfast, Remus lost his appetite.

_Black Awaits Dementor's Kiss_

London, 16 February,

_Mass-murderer Sirius Black, who escaped Azkaban last July, will be given the Dementor's Kiss when he is caught. This was confirmed by Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge yesterday, during the weekly press conference regarding the Ministry's progress in the Black case._

_The Dementors are now allowed to perform their punishment without the consent of a witch or wizard._

_This measure was taken in the hope that Black will be caught as soon as possible by the Dementors, and that all the extra forces for Black can be recalled. _

"_Black has escaped the Dementors once. We will not let it happen again, because the Dementors do not have to bring him to the Ministry first," said Mr. Fudge yesterday. Meanwhile, the rumours that Black was seen in the North continue, but the Ministry will still not confirm them, nor the rumour about Sirius Black, breaking into Hogwarts this past Halloween. _TheDaily Prophet_ reported last week that there have been two muggles who have called the special number; today we can tell you that there has been another call from a muggle, who doesn't live too far from Hogsmeade. _

_See page 11 for a detailed report on the press conference._

Remus folded the newspaper, looking askance at his scrambled eggs. He felt he might be ill.

A Dementor's Kiss . . . Surely Black deserved to rot in Azkaban, but to be a soulless shell? He looked at his colleagues, some of whom were also reading the _Prophet_. Did they agree with Fudge and his measures? They were probably hoping that this would cause the Dementors to leave the school. But did they really think that Black deserved this? It was hard to tell, but it was even harder to tell whose side Remus was now on. After reading the article, he suddenly hoped that Sirius would stay away from those foul creatures, and would stay in hiding for a long time.

While Remus was slowly bonding with Harry, Harry himself still wasn't allowed to ride his new broom. Remus heard the news from both sides: Minerva, who told him that it was really odd that they hadn't found anything yet, and Harry, who had been late for their lesson because he'd had difficulty catching the snitch during training, and Wood had made him fly on one of the slow school brooms as long as was necessary to catch the tiny thing.

Harry's mood wasn't improved by that whole incident, and he certainly wasn't happy about his Dementor lessons either. Remus could see that Harry had expected more from himself than just a vague silver shimmer as protection.

"You're expecting too much of yourself," said Remus the next night, when Harry kicked a chair in frustration. It was their fourth meeting: Harry could now manage to put the Dementor back into the box without Remus' help, but on his face was a frown that showed that he wasn't proud of it. Harry looked up.

"For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?"

"I thought a Patronus would – charge the Dementors down or something. Make them disappear –"

"The true Patronus does do that. But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."

But Harry wasn't relieved or comforted.

"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," said Harry stubbornly.

"I have complete confidence in you," Remus said, smiling. He looked at the time and saw that it was too late to try it again. Suddenly, he remembered that he had brought something other than just chocolate. "Here – you've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks, you won't have tried it before – " He walked to his briefcase on the desk and pulled two bottles of Butterbeer out of it. Remus had thought about it, and came to the conclusion that if Harry wasn't allowed to go to Hogsmeade, then Hogsmeade had to come to him. Or at least Butterbeer: as James' son he had the right to taste that delicious liquid. So yesterday he had asked Hagrid, whom he was comforting because his Hippogriff seemed to have to go to court, to bring some bottles back.

"Butterbeer! Yeah, I like that stuff!" Harry said quickly. Remus raised an eyebrow. How could Harry know what it was, if he had never been to the Three Broomsticks? Maybe Harry was more like James than Remus had thought.

"Oh – Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade," Harry said, just as quickly as his last sentence, looking away.

"I see," he heard himself say, although he didn't believe a word of what Harry had just told him. "Well – let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw!" Realising that this toast sounded very much like the ones he had made in his school time, and suddenly recalling that he was a teacher, he added: "Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher . . ."

Harry only grinned and Remus smiled back, feeling that he was again comfortable with the whole situation. They drank in silence. Remus was just about to ask if Harry might have heard something from McGonagall about his broomstick, when Harry asked:

"What's under a Dementor's hood?"

So much for a light conversation. Remus had expected the question, but that didn't mean that he was prepared to explain it.

"Hmmm . . . well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon." He thought back to the article he had read that morning and wondered if Harry had read it too.

"What's that?"

"They call it the Dementor's Kiss." Remus saw that Harry still looked eager to hear more: apparently he hadn't read it. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and –" he noticed that he had trouble speaking further – he had an image of a young Sirius in his mind's eye, "-and suck out his soul."

He barely noticed when Harry spilled his Butterbeer. The image was now changing: there was a black _thing _on Sirius' head.

"What – they kill - ?" Harry asked.

"Oh no. Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no . . . anything." He suddenly saw how joyous and happy and . . . alive Sirius had been. Mostly with James, the one that he would betray, but still . . . "There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just – exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever . . . lost." He wondered what Harry thought about it, but his face didn't tell Remus much. He took a sip of his Butterbeer and then suddenly, not caring that Harry was not supposed to know about Sirius, he said: "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

There was a look of shock on Harry's face, and Remus relaxed: Harry would probably think the same way about it as he did. But then, Harry's face hardened and he said: "He deserves it."

"You think so?" Remus asked in a quasi-casual tone. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?" He didn't want to admit it, but he felt a bit disappointed. He had, without realising it, expected that Harry would be more…. noble.

"Yes. For . . . for some things . . ."

It was clear to Remus that Harry knew more about the whole affair than anyone thought. He wanted to question Harry further, but it was obvious when Harry stood up and left that he hadn't been comfortable with the situation.

When Remus arrived that Friday morning for breakfast, Minerva soon leaned over to talk to him.

"A curious thing happened last evening, Remus," she said in a strange voice. Remus couldn't tell if she was joking, or too angry to sound mad.

"Oh," he replied, a bit careful.

"Yes. I went to Gryffindor Tower yesterday, to give Mr. Potter his broom back."

"So you haven't found anything wrong with it?" Remus asked.

"No, we haven't. Potter must have a very good friend somewhere, and if the price you told me is correct, a very rich one too. Anyway," she now looked a bit stern, because Remus had led her off topic, "When I arrived at the Tower, the only person there was Mr.Weasley, trying to make his potions homework. He told me that Potter has private lessons with you?"

Although the last sentence hadn't been a question, she did phrase it as one, as if there was some need for explanation there.

"Yes, that's correct," Remus said. He could tell that his short answer wasn't appreciated. Her eyes pierced into Remus and he added: "Harry has asked me to help him conjure a Patronus, to protect him against the Dementors during the match tomorrow."

Minerva blinked for a few seconds. She said slowly: "And . . . it was Potter . . . who proposed this idea?"

"Absolutely. Before Christmas, he came to me and asked me if I could help him. After the holidays, I started tutoring him."

"And you're not . . ."

"I'm not favouring him, if that's what you mean. But Harry seems to have more trouble than most with those creatures, and he didn't want it to be an obstacle for Gryffindor to loose the match tomorrow."

He saw that his last words had touched a nerve. If Minerva was still as competitive as she had been in his days, she would allow it. Remus knew that James and Sirius seemed to get less punishment for their deeds when there was an upcoming match.

Minerva was silent for a moment, and then she said: "Well, I hope you know what you're doing. I'm a bit disappointed that you didn't confide it to me when Harry started these lessons with you." When Remus wanted to interrupt, she added: "And please try to remember during those lessons that Harry isn't James, Remus."

Remus said nothing back. He felt a bit ashamed that he hadn't told McGonagall anything about it. And when he thought about the reason why he hadn't, he had to agree with Minerva again: Maybe he hadn't told anyone because he had wanted to see Harry as a friend.

He walked back to his office, to prepare his class and jumped automatically over the fake step on the staircase to the second floor. As he did so, his mind flew back to his fourth year, when James had invented the stair. He had stumbled on the spell in a book during one of their infrequent trips to the library, this one prompted by an actual need to do their Charms homework. From then on, James had tried the spell on everything, and made it permanent with this stair. And even though everyone told him it was useless, James had tried to master the spell with the same dedication and stubbornness as Harry now had with the Patronus.

Remus stood still. What was actually wrong with the tutoring? Minerva had made him feel as if he was doing something wrong, he realised. But was it wrong? All Remus was trying to do was help Harry. He probably would have done the same when it was about some one else, wouldn't he? Okay, maybe with less dedication, but as long Harry didn't know the whole story, that wasn't so bad, was it?

The day quickly passed and Saturday, Remus went, just like the rest of the school, to the Quidditch pitch. He had been to the other matches of the season, (except the one Gryffindor had played when Harry had been injured) but when he saw the players in Gryffindor red mounting their brooms, it felt like he was a student again, cheering with the rest of the crowd. His seat was right next to the commentator's box, where Minerva stood with Lee Jordan, a crony of Fred and George Weasley. Remus saw that the boy was talking to McGonagall.

"Wow! Professor! Did you see Harry's broom? It's a Firebolt!"

"Yes, Jordan, I looked at it myself. Now, please, turn on the spell and start commenting this game."

"Yes professor. Did you notice that when you hold it, the Firebolt is as light as a feather?"

Remus heard Lee's voice booming through the stadium, sometimes interrupted by McGonagall because the boy still gave too much information about the Firebolt. But because of his view, Remus barely heard it. In front of his eyes was a great match. The Gryffindor team flew better than they had ever done when Remus had been in school, even when James had been on it. Fourteen (fifteen with Madam Hooch) brooms were flying, zigzagging, looping and diving in the air. Remus saw that Harry was the highest flyer, although he was constantly being blocked by a girl from the Ravenclaw team, all of whom were doing their best to make it as difficult for Gryffindor as possible.

He didn't know how much time passed: the brooms seemed to mesmerize him a bit. When Harry seemed to see the snitch for the third time however, something happened that made him alert again.

Both of the seekers where slowing down, and the girl behind Harry seemed to point at something. Half of the crowd was cheering, while the other half was busy looking for what the Ravenclaw Seeker (or was it Seekster?) was pointing at.

Remus followed the gaze of the latter group and he felt a fear creep up in his veins when he saw that there were three Dementors slowly entering the field. As if he was watching a tennis match, his gaze switched from Harry onto the creatures and back. Remus was afraid that Harry wouldn't be able to perform the spell on a real Dementor, that he would fall off his broom. But Harry didn't even seem to make any effort: he pulled out his wand, and repeated the incantation, for as far Remus could tell. Then, - Remus couldn't believe that Harry didn't have trouble at all with the spell - he conjured a full, corporeal Patronus. It was too sunny and there was too much light to see what it was: All Remus could see was that it had four legs and was enormous (it looked a bit like a lion, or was it perhaps . . .), and that it was far too big to be the usual shimmer of silver.

What happened next happened even faster then the previous things: the Dementors were not blown away by the spell, but they fell, and Remus saw from the corner of his eye that they exposed some feet. At the same time, he tried to watch Harry, who managed to catch the Snitch. Madame Hooch blew the whistle, and the red part of the stadium erupted into cheers and screams, compensating for their relative quiet during the hunt for the Snitch.

He felt that he had his fists clenched from excitement and fear, and relaxed. He stood up, as the rest of the crowd was doing, to descend and congratulate the Gryffindors. But before Remus could walk over to Harry and congratulate him not only on the match, but also on his best Patronus so far, he saw that Minerva was extremely red in the face and that she was marching down the stairs with her lips so thin that they were almost invisible, so great was her anger.

As soon as Remus was on the ground, he saw that she was walking towards the "Dementors" who now seemed to be four guys in hoods and capes.

Without looking further, he fought his way towards Harry (with quite some difficulty- it seemed as if the crowd was everywhere-) and said: "That was quite some Patronus."

Harry turned around and grinned at Remus, who now felt that he had actually some sweat on his forehead from stress.

"The Dementors didn't affect me at all! I didn't feel a thing!" Harry yelled above the crowd, who was now cheering some odd Quidditch song.

"That would be because they - " he said, leaning over towards Harry to make himself audible, "er –" he suddenly got the feeling that Harry would be disappointed when he heard that they weren't real Dementors. Well, someone had to tell him . . . "weren't Dementors." Harry looked surprised. "Come and see –"

He led Harry out of the crowd, until they were able to see the edge of the pitch. When he saw that Harry was even grinning more at the sight of the "Dementors" he said:

"You gave Mr. Malfoy quite a fright."

To make the sight even better for Harry (and subconsciously himself, because he realised that he would've hated it if Harry had been injured during the match) Minerva was yelling at four Slytherins, Crabbe, Goyle, Flint and Malfoy.

"An unworthy trick! A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"

While Harry was being called away by one of the Weasley twins (after he almost doubled up with laughter), Remus saw that Professor Dumbledore and Minerva were discussing the incident. Dumbledore said something to Minerva, who gave an answer, and suddenly, Remus saw that Dumbledore was heading towards him.

"I hear that you would have prevented the incident from escalating, had it been a real incident?"

If Dumbledore was heading at the lessons with Harry, he was right, so Remus nodded.

"Well, then I believe you did your job right. Harry produced quite a Patronus there . . ."

With a wink, Dumbledore turned around to walk back to the castle.

Leaving Remus, as proud as he could be, behind.

The euphoric feeling didn't last long for Remus. His sleep was woken abruptly from some quick knocks on the door. Remus' first thought was to ignore them, but when he heard the squeaky voice of Flitwick, yelling: "Remus, are you there?", he sighed and walked over to open the door.

In front of him was the little professor, in a white nightgown, with black stars on them. Remus would have had problems containing his laughter about the matching nightcap, if it wasn't for the concerned and panicked look that had caught his attention immediately.

"Remus, come quickly! Black has tried to break in again!"

_Ooo! Cliff-hanger! Well, at least I got some tension in this chapter. Please review me to ask me ridiculous questions (normal ones are allowed too!) or to tell me that this chapter is not one of my best!_

_But the next one will be better, promise! I mean, how is Lupin going to handle himself when he has to save Harry and the Map out of the hands of Snape?_

_(Two cliff-hangers in one chapter! Wow, maybe this is a good chapter after all…..)_


	8. A Map and Quidditch questions

_Yeey! New chappie! A bit faster than I thought, but well, I got inspiration and it went so fast... Thanks to LEAD again, for her advise and editing!_

_Still not JK Rowing (although I have false hope I will be some day:P)_

_on with the story!_

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"WHAT?"

"Black has tried to enter the Gryffindor tower again, and this time he succeeded!"

"What? But how? Is anybody injured? Who saw him?" Remus felt that his heart and head were suddenly racing.

"I don't know exactly, but Minerva has the whole story. Never seen her so scared . . ."

While Filius was talking, Remus put on a cloak and took his shoes to put them on also. All his sympathetic feelings towards Sirius the past days had disappeared, and he was totally agreeing with Harry and the rest of the world that that man deserved a Dementor's Kiss. How had he forgotten that Sirius had killed before, and was about to do it again?

When he got on his shoes (he tucked his shoe-laces in the sides: his hands were shaking to much from anger to tie them) he followed Flitwick towards the great Hall: there were most of the teachers standing, looking at Dumbledore, who gave them instructions as to which part of the school they had to search.

"Remus, you can search the dungeons with Severus."

As if Dumbledore wanted to punish him for the kinder thoughts he had had toward Sirius, Remus was linked to Severus, who was one of the few with all his normal clothes on.

They looked at each other with a deadly glare, and Remus followed his least-favourite colleague to the dark and cold dungeons, but the dungeons were nothing compared to the heavy silence between them. He had not very much confidence in finding Black. Snape, however, was walking very fast, constantly looking around, as if the few paintings that hung here had a trace of Black in their colours.

Remus followed Snape willingly, who but when he slowed down, Remus was forced to walk next to him, and soon, there was a conversation.

"So, have you heard the whole story yet?" Snape asked Remus in an arrogant tone.

"N-No, I haven't." He tried to tell himself that he was shaking because of the cold.

"Oh, did no one tell you? Well, apparently, the student who did so well in your first class, Longbottom, had all of this week's passwords written down on a little piece of paper, which he lost. Black, coincidentally, found it." At the word 'coincidentally', he paused to give more emphasis to the word. "And went to the tower tonight . . . He went up to the third-years' dormitory, opened the curtains, but found, instead of Potter, Weasley, who saw the knife in his hands and started screaming. Someone went for Minerva, but Black had already gone . . . probably through a secret passageway that leads out of the castle . . ."

"Oh," he said lamely. He felt more and more ill with every word Snape had said, but he really didn't know what to say. He promised himself that he would tell Dumbledore about the fact that Black was an Animagus the next morning, and that the Whomping Willow was probably the way Black entered the castle.

"So, where were you at that time, _Moony_?" Remus blinked at the sound of his old nickname, and he felt some anger about the accusation Snape made. However, he kept calm and said:

"I was sleeping, as were most of the persons in this castle. Filius woke me only half an hour ago."

"Oh," said Snape, mocking Remus' previous response.

There was some silence again, and it grew heavier and heavier.

When they had walked through what seemed to be all the dungeons in Hogwarts, Snape suddenly walked up a flight of stairs and they were standing in the Great Hall again, where Dumbledore was standing alone.

"The dungeons are clear," Snape said. "Black will have used the same way as last time: a way that almost no one knows about." At this remark he was glaring suspiciously to Remus, but neither Dumbledore nor Remus himself said anything. "Or he had help getting in. Perhaps Lupin knows . . ." He didn't get to finish his sentence, however. Dumbledore interrupted.

". . . more passages in this castle then any other of the teachers? Yes, I was thinking about that myself. Remus, could you do me a favour and inspect the castle with Mr. Filch tomorrow? I gave him the task of securing any passageways in or out of Hogwarts. You and your friends seemed to have a . . . particular ability for discovering them when you were in school. Perhaps you can be of use?" Remus nodded mutely; Snape was looking angry. "Thank you. Well, you two were the last of the staff to come back, so if you'll excuse me, I will go back to my office now. Goodnight."

With that, he turned around and strode out of the Hall, softly whistling a muggle song Remus had once heard when he was a kid. Remus looked at Snape, who said nothing, but whirled around and descended the stairs again. A few moments later, Remus heard the echoing slam of a dungeon door.

When he arrived back in his office, Remus sat at his desk, feeling oddly awake and knowing there was no chance at sleep. He conjured some hot chocolate (although he thought that making it the muggle way was actually better), and slowly sipped, thinking about the events these past hours. When the mug was empty, he pulled a piece of paper towards him and tried, thinking hard, to remember how the Marauders Map had looked. He doodled some pages that were etched into his mind from using them so often, but when he looked at them, he had his doubts . . . Well, perhaps he could do it more rationally. There were six, no, seven entrances into Hogwarts that the Marauders had found. One was obviously the Whomping Willow. In his time at school, Filch had known about three other entrances in the castle. That meant that there were four entrances Black could have used. With all his might, he tried to remember those passages. The Whomping Willow, the space behind the mirror on the fourth floor, a wall in the dungeons that you had to tap to open and . . . and . . . He really couldn't remember the last one. He tried again – after all, he'd used the passage for years, he ought to be able to remember it – but all he got was a mental image of himself and his friends making the Map. James and Sirius performing the spells and drawing the corridors, himself trying to look up the spells in a book that James had nicked from the library (nicked, because "It would hurt my reputation when I had just borrowed it,") and Peter looking on curiously, and handing quills and ink to the other three boys. "We are not going to tell the secrets on this Map to anyone," Sirius had said as they finished for the evening. Later, as they discovered more of the school's secrets, they added them in. The Map was never totally complete; after all, it didn't have the Slytherin common room on it.

Remus felt some guilt for giving the secrets away to Filch. _James would turn over in his grave out of shame_, he thought . . . But, at the same time, he would have wanted his son to be protected enough to go to school safely.

"I already knew that one," said Filch, when Remus took him to the wall in the dungeons. "Found it when someone locked Mrs. Norris in and she couldn't escape." He looked at Remus as if he was the perpetrator of such a monstrous crime.

"Well, okay…. What about the Mirror on the fourth floor?"

"The Mirror? Is that a passage?" Filch's reaction couldn't be more different; his eyes were almost popping out from happiness.

_At least someone's happy about knowing our secrets_, Remus thought, having trouble keeping up with Filch, who was almost sprinting to the fourth floor.

He showed Filch the spell, though Filch, being a Squib, was unable to use it. _If only we'd known he was a Squib when we were here – we'd have driven him mad. Not that we didn't, but . . ._ Remus had trouble keeping a straight face thinking about the fun they might have had, but was brought back to reality by the caretaker.

"Do you have more?" he asked, almost begging.

"Well, there is the Whomping Willow," Remus said.

Filch reacted quite differently than he had to the previous two.

"The Whomping Willow?" he repeated suspiciously.

"Yes, there is a tunnel beneath it. It ends in . . ."

"But how could anyone enter or leave Hogwarts through that?" Filch interrupted. "Do you have to tap on the bark or something?"

"No, all you have to do is . . ."

"Well, I think it's useless to hurt myself blocking that entrance when Black can hardly enter because of the branches. And besides, the grounds are swarming with Dementors. If he tried to enter, he'd fall right into their hands . . .

It was obvious that Filch didn't want to go near the vicious tree.

"But I think he can come through it. Maybe you should just have a look…." Remus knew that Black had a way to fool the Dementors: becoming a big black dog. But at the same time, if he confessed that to Dumbledore, he would also have to confess that they had played around when he was a werewolf, while he was supposed to stay in the Shrieking Shack. He realised that even though he had yesterday promised himself that he would, Remus couldn't confess it to the man who have given him a job, and then would probably sack him. He loved this castle far too much to give it up because he hadn't been careful enough in his school time. Filch was shaking his head, while walking back towards his office: He probably thought that Remus wanted to prank him, with saying that the Whomping Willow was an entrance. Remus let him walk. For once he didn't feel like he had to intervene. He had made up his mind; there had been enough secrets revealed for today.

It was weird how easily life returned to normal at Hogwarts. Ron was telling everybody that Monday how Black had stood beside him, and Filch was busy with boarding up tiny cracks and things he believed were "entrances", but besides that, the next Monday was a normal one. Remus continued his lessons, and the nasty feeling of guilt in his stomach about not telling someone about Black's Animagus form only turned up when he heard the name of Sirius, or was reminded of last weekend's occurrences.

It was strange that more people seemed to talk about last Saturday's Quidditch game, instead of the breaking in by a mass murderer that same Saturday evening. Probably because Black had done it for the second time, while the Quidditch game of last Saturday had made the championship much more interesting. Only the teachers seemed to be more worried.

"I can't believe that Black escaped us again! And to make the matters even worse, he got further this time than last time; I mean, he stood beside a student with a knife! The boy must be emotionally scarred for life!" Remus had heard Professor Vector say to Madame Hooch, who nodded fervently.

The "emotionally scarred boy" didn't seem to mind the attention though, and Remus had to admit it was good to see Ron standing in the spotlights for a change.

" . . . I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, you know? I instantly knew that there was something wrong, of course. So I took my wand from under my pillow, and sat up on my knees, prepared to fight . . ."

Remus had noticed that Ron's story was changing every time he told it. Remus heard that Harry had told Ginny (when Ron had told her about his heroic fight, and letting Black flee) that Ron had screamed like hell instead. Ginny had blushed, giggled and trembled over her homework as a reply.

When Remus heard that there was a Hogsmeade day the next weekend, he was very surprised that Dumbledore had decided to allow the students into the town. However, the students were excited, and Remus caught Harry and Ron whispering during his class, while Hermione was eying them suspiciously and uncertainly.

He thought about going himself that Saturday, but there was a full moon coming up and he had a mass of tests to look through, so he decided to stay at Hogwarts.

That Saturday, while he was busy correcting the essays (a second year Hufflepuff had thought that a Pogrebin was black instead of red, a third year thought that you had to eat a wooden cross to protect yourself against vampires and a fourth year Slytherin tried used his essay to try and convince Remus that _Imperio _and _Crucio_ were extremely important for them to learn), when the fireplace next to him was suddenly burned with green flames, and he heard Snape's voice come out of it.

"Lupin!" it boomed. "I want a word!"

Without knowing what else to do, but knowing that this couldn't be any good, he stepped into the fireplace and whirled around, until he saw Snape's office and stepped out.

There, along with a very, very pissed Snape, stood Harry, looking utterly bewildered and rather afraid. Remus tried to remain calm and brushed the ashes from his robes (as if they hadn't been shabby enough before the histrip through the fireplace), still confused as to what all this could mean.

"You called, Severus?"

"I certainly did." Snape marched back to his desk and pointed at a piece of parchment, adding, "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."

Remus leaned over and saw, next to some Zonko's products, to his utter surprise, the thing for which he had been searching for months: the Marauder's Map.

_Quick thinking, quick thinking, _he thought, picking up the piece of parchment. It seemed to work exactly as they had planned when Snape tried to get past the password.

_Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business. _

_Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git. _

_Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor. _

_Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball. _

Yes, the charm had really worked – two of the Marauders had insulted Snape from beyond the grave. But how could Remus explain this now? Snape obviously knew who these people were, but with a look at Harry, he could see that Harry had never heard of these people. But if he didn't, how had he gotten the Map?

There were too many questions circling in his head; he needed to make his mind clear.

"Well?" Snape asked more impatiently.

Okay, Snape had probably brought Harry here after catching him in Hogsmeade. Remus could add those two together. He had to find a way to get Harry out of this, and preferably himself and the Map too.

"_Well?"_ Snape asked, loudly. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"

_Ouch._ In one remark, Snape had made a sneer at his work, his past and had tried to tell Harry what that history was. Remus put the Map back on the desk and looked at Harry, who was looking directly at him. Remus gave him a look that said: _Don't interrupt me_, and started trying to get them both out of this mess.

"Full of Dark Magic? Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who tries to read it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop –"

That last sentence hadn't been smart, seeing as he also tried to prove that Harry hadn't been in Hogsmeade also, but Snape, now full of cold fury from the insults on the Map, hadn't noticed that he had an extra clue to show that Harry had been in Hogsmeade.

"Indeed? You think a joke-shope could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it _directly from the manufacturers_?" Snape had a glint in his eye that really scared Remus, but he was able to remain calm and said, with well-acted surprise, "You mean, from Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" He thought Peter's name had been the smartest to use, seeing as the other two would infuriate Snape more than anything else at the merest thought, and the last one was standing in front of him. To make his reaction more believable, he added, "Harry, do you know any of these men?"

"No," said Harry quickly. Remus knew they wouldn't be able to keep this up for long; he needed to get out of this room.

"You see Severus? It looks like a Zonko product to me –"

As if he were sent from heaven, Ron came stumbling into the office. Clutching a stitch in his side, he stopped in front of Snape's desk, looking as though he had run a few miles and had just stopped. In the few moments that Ron used to get back his ability to speak, Snape glared at Remus. Remus tried to stay calm, and looked neutrally back at Snape.

"I – gave – Harry – that – stuff. Bought – it – in Zonko – ages – ago . . ." Ron wanted to tell them more, but it seemed that he had a sharp pain in his stomach, and was now holding his hands against it. Remus interfered.

"Well," he clapped his hands to get everyone's attention, "that seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" Before Snape could hear the mistake in his sentence (How could he be so stupid to use the word '_back_'? As if he'd had it before!), he took the map from the desk and went on: "Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay. Excuse us, Severus."

With that, almost not believing that he had talked his way out of the situation, he rushed Harry and Ron towards the door, and followed them out.

But at the moment that he wanted to congratulate himself, he felt anger boiling up inside him. Harry had put himself in a very dangerous position, only to get to some things from Zonko's. And Ron had helped, while not even a week ago, he had been standing eye-to-eye with Black. However, he was the most angry at himself. He only now fully realised that the Map was a weapon in the wrong hands, and those wrong hands didn't belong only to Black, but to others as well. This thing was a remaining piece of the puzzle that – if people solved it – would reveal Remus' secret. He marched out of the dungeons. When they reached the empty entrance hall, he heard Harry speak. "Professor, I –"

"I don't want to hear explanations," he said shortly. He looked around and lowered his voice. "I happen to know that this map was confisticated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he added, when he saw that Ron and Harry were looking surprised. His anger seemed to grow more and more. "I don't want to know how it felt in your possession. I am however, _astounded_ that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry." He was mad at the boy; if Harry had just given the map to Dumbledore, no one had to know about its history. Now, he was stuck with it, and he couldn't give it to the Headmaster – he was sure that if he tried the whole story would come out of his mouth. Dumbledore had a way of getting to the truth.

"Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?" Harry asked.

"Because . . ." Remus hesitated. It would look suspicious to tell Harry nothing, but to tell him that he had helped make it would be going a bit too far. "Because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school," he suddenly said. "They'd think it extremely entertaining," Remus said, thinking back at the hoax Sirius had once done on Snape, almost uncovering Remus' secret also.

"Do you know them?" Harry asked impressed. It irritated Remus that Harry didn't seem to care about his warning, but only about the "mapmakers".

"We've met," he said, trying to impress upon Harry how dangerous it was to have the map. "Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them – gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."

It had seemed obvious that after his amazing success with the Patronus Charm during the Quidditch match, Harry didn't need tutoring anymore. But even if it had been necessary, Remus wasn't sure if he would have done it again.

He didn't understand himself anymore, though the question that immediately pooped into his head was, _When did you ever?_ On one hand he was angry at Harry; Harry had put himself in danger for some candy and hadn't realised how dangerous the map could be in other peoples' hands.

But on the other hand: Remus now had the map, but he wasn't about to turn it in either. Of course that had to do with his own history with the map, but wasn't it also a little bit because he was glad he had it back?

When he got back to his office, he opened the Map and saw that nothing had changed. In fact, when he rolled out the parchment that he had doodled on before in his attempts to remember the secret passageways, he saw that some corridors were exactly the same. He had done a great job, without even knowing.

March glided through April into May, and suddenly the students seemed to realise that exams were unbelievably nearer than they had thought. Ron and Harry seemed to have made up with Hermione, who was a bit more relaxed than she had been, possibly because she had dropped Divination. However, Remus only noticed this when he saw her in the corridors or heard it from his colleagues; in his class, she was just as uptight and nervous as before.

Snape hadn't exchanged a word with Remus since the episode with Harry and the map. However, Remus was glad about it. Although Snape was still obeying Dumbledore by giving Remus his monthly Wolfsbane potion, now he did it without the usual sneers and remarks, which only seem to make the process more comfortable for Remus.

Because he'd had all his lessons and exams planned since the terrible lesson Snape had given last semester, Remus didn't feel too much pressure about the performances his students would make during exams; he knew that he was at least better than the previous Defence teacher (Since the guy had lost his memory before the exams) and that most students hadn't had made such a progress in any other lesson this year.

But before there could be any real exam stress, the year's Quidditch champion had to be decided. If there wasn't stress with the people who seemed to realise that finals were drawing near, there was stress enough about the final Quidditch-match. Little incidents between Slytherin and Gryffindor seemed to happen at least twice a day, including a lot of booing and pestering between the two teams, and Minerva's polite nod towards Snape seemed to get sterner by the day.

This time, knowing that he could expect a wonderful game, Remus heard more of the commentary on that sunny, bright Saturday. He hadn't expected, however, that his colleagues were also very "into" the game; Minerva had charmed her hat to be red with a gold rim, while holding a huge crimson flag in her hand. Hagrid had red rosettes everywhere and Filius suddenly had a red cloak instead of a black one. Remus himself had only a red scarf in his closet, but to wear that thing in May when it was already so hot was ridiculous.

"And here are the Gryffindors! Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years –" There was too much booing to hear what else Lee had to say.

"And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the line-up and seems to be going for size, rather than skill –"

The players approached each other, the captains shook hands, and before Remus knew it, Madame Hooch had blown on her whistle and the players were off.

But the game was different than Remus expected; the Ravenclaw match had been exiting and tough, but this one was downright dirty. People flew into each other, Bludgers were aimed at players' heads, people grabbed each other by the head, not to mention all the swearing Lee Jordan was doing. Remus had seen a lot of Quidditch-matches, (Including one, where James and Sirius had glued their opponents – Slytherins of course- to their own brooms) but this one was definitely not fun to watch. The game became more and more dangerous, but when Malfoy caught the end of Harry's broom to prevent him from catching the Snitch, Remus didn't stand up, shouting boos as Filius now did next to him. Remus heard a noise that actually would have been impossible to hear among this crowd, yet he heard it. His eyes tried to find the source, and with a wave of shock and fear, they found it. There was a black dog downstairs, next to the tribune where Remus sat. The dog was huge, and looked quite scary as it barked like mad towards the broomsticks in the air. With another jolt of fear, Remus realised that the dog wasn't even half as scary as it would be in its true appearance. Remus felt the urge to pinch himself, or rub his eyes. Was Sirius Black really standing at this sideline of the Quidditch field? But if he was, why was he not trying to harm anyone?

Remus didn't know how long he was staring at the dog, but when the gigantic roar from the crowd told him that Harry had apparently caught the Snitch he saw that the black animal was wagging its tail, chasing a fly that was zooming through the air, and then, amid all the noise that now erupted from the side of the Gryffindors, disappeared.

Instead of sobbing as hard as Minerva, instead of grinning as wide as Harry, Remus walked straight to his office. There, pulling the Map out of his drawer and opening it with the charm, he sought Sirius' name hastily, but he found nothing. The Quidditch pitch lay next to the edge of the paper, and Black would probably have left the grounds since his appearance at the game.

But Remus also looked at the castle itself, in the hope that Black's name would be there. In the back of his mind, he knew that if he didn't occupy himself looking for the name "Sirius Black", he would have to answer the questions that had nagged him since the sight of the familiar black dog: _Why didn't he make an attempt to kill Harry? Why did he seem excited, even happy, when Harry caught the Snitch?_

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_So, okay, the last thing didn't stand in the books, but I found that there had to be an extra reason for Remus to trust Sirius in the next chapter in the Shrieking Shack :P Oops, spoiler:P:P_

_By the way, thanks for al the wonderfull reviews! I mean, I should say more often that I think that the chapter is rubbish! I never had so many positive messages!_

_see you next time!_

_xxx-mokimik-xxx_


	9. The forgotten Marauder

_Heey! So one of the last chapters! Thanks for all of your wonderfull reviews on chapter 8!_

_Well, without further ado (Ow, wait, I first have to say in a funny note that I ain't JK Rowling) _

_On with the story!_

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From that day on, Remus had the Map with him at all times. Between classes, he checked the Map and his evenings were spent drinking tea, while looking constantly at the Map.

It now became clear that everybody had to study for their exams, but the weather didn't help: it was hot and the sun shone almost every day. Using the Map, Remus could see there were students who had taken the nice weather with the not-so-nice revising and sat by the Lake regularly. Others (like Hermione, who Remus could find now every evening in the library), had skin as white as parchment and dark shadows under their eyes.

With the Map by his side, Remus discovered that not only Hermione could be found in the same place at the same time every day. He learned that the seventh-year Gryffindor Wood was flying on the Quidditch field every day, although the Cup was already in his possession. He probably felt nostalgic.

George and Fred were mostly found in the common room, ostensibly studying, but Remus saw that they wandered the corridors at night, and he suspected that they were planning a prank for at the end of the year.

Snape usually sat in his dungeon office and Remus saw that Professors Vector and Sinistra went to each others' offices nearly every evening, probably for a bit of tea and a chat.

As the exam week came closer, Remus took his plans for each year's exams and made the precautions.

For the first-years, the exam was based on some simple spells and an essay about what they had learned this year. The second years would have only a practical exam that was based especially on defending themselves with counter spells.

Then, for the third years, he had made an obstacle course, which combined almost all the dark creatures they had gotten this year. The fourth years would have a written test, with questions about Dementors and Unforgivable Curses. For the fifth- and seventh-years, Remus didn't have to create an exam, as they were given by the official committee of OWLs and NEWTs. (Horrible things, those, as Remus remembered quite clearly.) That left him with the sixth-years, who would prove themselves through duelling – the students would be divided up into pairs, with him as the referee (and of course the one who awarded them points afterward) they had to duel. To make the duels a bit more fair, Remus had paired each student with a person they didn't seem to know, but who had the same level of expertise.

His last class that week would be the third years. They all did fairly well, except for one Hufflepuff, who had managed to lose his nerve with every obstacle. Best in their year by far was Harry, who came out unharmed, without making a single mistake. Hermione had difficulty with the Boggart, but Remus couldn't blame her: she looked exhausted, and that was not the best state to be in when facing a Boggart.

"P-p-professor McGonagall! Sh-she said I'd failed everything!" she said when he asked what had happened. She was shaken beyond belief. If Remus had needed more proof to know that Hermione was overworked, this would have been excellent. It didn't matter much, however; Remus had heard from Seamus that besides divination, this was their last exam.

However, this was also the day that Buckbeak would almost certainly be sentenced to death, Remus heard from Malfoy, who apparently had a knack for acting. Instead of playing a Dementor, he was, while waiting in line for his obstacle exam, acting the part of both Buckbeak and the hippogriff's executioner. Remus felt sorry for Hagrid and even more sorry that he couldn't help the poor bloke, but the fact remained that the Ministry just wasn't his best friend, and he was afraid that they would try to get him sacked if he drew attention to the fact that a werewolf was a part of the staff at Hogwarts.

That night, Remus settled himself in front of his desk again, with a glass of water in his hand (it was far too warm outside to drink hot chocolate) and his eyes on the Map. As he had expected, he saw that Harry, Hermione and Ron were leaving the castle and began to walk towards Hagrid's hut. Remus didn't feel it was appropriate to stop them. He was their teacher, but Hagrid was their friend, and they were needed there. The trio indeed disappeared from the edge of the Map, where the outlines of Hagrid's hut were drawn. Remus knew that inside the hut, you couldn't be seen on the Map: neither James, Sirius, Peter nor himself had never been inside. It was still on their to-do list when they left Hogwarts, but they hadn't minded that much. Hagrid was one of the few they'd had respect for, and he was allowed to have a bit of privacy on the Map.

Remus looked up and saw that the sun would be setting soon. He was expecting Snape to come any minute now, not talking and with a deadly glare on his face. Tonight would be a full moon and he needed his Wolfsbane potion. He didn't mind though, to take the potion a bit later. He wasn't really attached to the bitter taste the potion left in his mouth, not to mention the horrible breath he got from it, or the gruesome after-taste: like he had been chewing on some old socks, dipped in bad eggs. He saw the trio come back into sight, leaving Hagrid's hut, probably because the dots _Albus Dumbledore_, _Cornelius Fudge_ and _Walden McNair_ were arriving at the hut. The trio went out on the back door and started back to the school. Remus noticed that the light in his room was getting a bit darker (his room faced east, so he sat on the side of the castle that got dark first,) and he wondered where Snape was. He was just about to tear his eyes away from the map, to look worriedly on his watch, when he saw something totally, completely unbelievable.

It wasn't _Sirius Black_ that was written on the Map. It was _Peter Pettigrew_, in the presence of _Harry Potter_, _Ron Weasley_ and _Hermione Granger_.

He had, after he had heard Malfoy talking about it, expected Harry, Hermione and Ron out in the grounds, to support Hagrid. But what were they doing in the presence of Peter Pettigrew? Peter, whom everybody thought that James, Sirius and himself had only befriended him because they felt sorry for him. A boy so clumsy he had tripped over his own feet ……multiple times a day. Wormtail, who had been murdered by Sirius - _No, Black_, - . . And how did Ron, Hermione and Harry fit into this picture?

It couldn't be. It simply couldn't. Remus blinked several times, and ran his fingers over the Map, as if to see if it was just some dirt on the Map, coincidentally spelling out his friend's name. But the map never lied . . .

Just as Remus thought it couldn't get any weirder, it did. He had seen the four of them were walking towards the castle, apparently returning from Hagrid's, when suddenly a dot labelled Crookshanks (Wasn't that Hermione's cat? The one she and Ron had bickered about?) neared them. Peter's name suddenly departed from them at top-speed. Ron ran after Peter, followed by Harry and Hermione. Remus could barely tell what was going on, as the dots were so small and the action so fast. His face was now so close to the Map that his nose was almost touching the parchment. He saw that the dot labelled _Ron Weasley_ was standing still, on the same spot as _Peter Pettigrew_. Crookshanks was coming near Ron and Peter, while Hermione and Harry were running towards the cat, Ron, and the still inexplicable dot reading _Peter Pettigrew_. It made no sense at all . . .

And then, without warning, Remus' heart nearly stopped. He had watched Peter's dot so intensely that he hadn't paid attention to their surroundings. Another dot was coming towards them unbelievably fast, and this time, Remus was genuinely scared. The dot was labelled _Sirius Black_. More than ever did Remus wish that they had made a zoom mode on the Map, as James had proposed so many years ago. He saw that Sirius was moving, stepping over or just walking very closely to Harry, and then going for Ron and Peter, who both were walking with him, (_voluntarily or forced_?) towards the passage in the Whomping Willow . . .

Hermione and Harry were left behind. Although Remus couldn't see what was actually going on, he assumed that they had tried to follow, but were repulsed by the branches of the Willow.

He could waste no more time. Why Sirius had taken Ron instead of Harry was a riddle – there was no way Sirius, even as an Amimagus, could have mistaken one for the other – but he could not let Harry get close to Sirius. He stood up and nearly ran out of his room, putting his cloak on as he went.

With every step he took, he became more and more anxious and more and more astounded at what he had seen. He felt rather as though he was dreaming; since when was Peter alive? And how could Black, as an Amimagus, have forced both Peter and Ron into the tunnel at the same time? Did he have a wand? Or was one of them walking voluntarily? But Ron would never walk with an unknown dog into an unknown passageway. And Peter knew who the dog was and wouldn't go along either . . . unless of course he was in on the plot as well. Would Peter work together with Black? And how did Harry fit into this story? Why had Sirius taken Ron, rather than James' son? It made no sense to Remus. With every step he took, it seemed as if a new question popped into his head. He was now running at top speed. When he opened the oak doors out of the castle and looked toward the Whomping Willow, he now saw to his utter horror that Harry, Hermione and the cat had disappeared. He walked very quickly to the tree, took an old branch that was lying on the ground, and tapped the knot with it, as he had seen Madame Pomfrey do many times before. Immediately, the tree stood still. He saw a vague silver shimmer lying next to the hole, but he paid no attention to it. Trying not to think about the times he had walked in here, he jumped in, lit his wand and walked through the tunnel, which seemed smaller than he had remembered.

He heard his steps echo and bumped his head a few times. The fear that he felt for the danger Harry, Hermione and Ron were in made him more sick with every second and he wished that he could run again. However, he had to watch where he went because he would bump his head, and he had a sharp pain in the side of his stomach. He should have told Dumbledore . . .he should have told Dumbledore the whole history since the beginning of the schoolyear…. but it was too late for second thoughts now.

The tunnel began to rise slowly after a few minutes, and after the tunnel made a turn, Remus entered the Shrieking Shack. Again.

He stood still and looked around quickly. There was no one there. Remus knew that there was a basement and a first floor in the Shrieking Shack. But which level were Sirius and Peter on? He walked quickly to the door that led to the basement, but then he heard a loud scream from upstairs.

"WE'RE UP HERE! WE'RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK –_QUICK!" _It was Hermione's voice, and it sounded very scared. Taking the stairs two at a time, Remus ran up the steps and followed the footprints in the dust to a door on his left. He burst through the door and looked around.

It took him a moment to comprehend the whole scene. Ron was lying on the floor, his leg twisted at a strange angle. Sirius, looking more dirty and ragged than Remus had ever seen him, was sitting against the wall, looking intently at Harry, who was pointing his wand at the older man's chest, on which sat Hermione's ugly yellow cat. It was staring at Harry. Hermione herself sat in the middle of the room, looking relieved that someone had come to rescue them. But where was Peter?

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Remus saw Harry looking at him in astonishment. He now had three wands – Harry's and the two Hermione had been holding. Remus looked around again, to find Peter. There was no point in arresting Black for his crimes if his possible helper would attack him after that.

"Where is he, Sirius?" Looking at his old friend seemed to take more willpower than he thought he had. Sirius looked as if he had rolled in dirt and hadn't eaten in weeks. Remus wondered if Black was as mad as they said in the Prophet. For a moment, he thought they were right; Black hadn't reacted at all to his question. Then, still looking at Remus, he pointed towards the four poster bed where Ron lay, looking bewildered. It became too much for Remus' mind to comprehend. Deep inside him, a dark suspicion crawled up. Why would Peter still be in Animagus form if he could easily have helped Black keep three children hostage?

"But then . . . " He looked back at Sirius, who still had his gaze fixed on him. It was as if he wanted to tell, with a single look, everything that had happened all those years ago. Best friends as them didn't need Legilimency to understand each other with one gaze. However, this was a rather complicated case, so it took Remus a bit longer. "Why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless –" The truth hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes widened out of shock as the questions began to answer themselves. His eyes weren't focused on Sirius anaymore: they were looking at the wall behind him as everything unfolded in his head. Sirius hadn't been the Secret Keeper of James and Lily_….. Peter_ had! But why hadn't they told him? Immediately, he answered his own question: _There had been a spy in the Order. _They had probably thought that it had been him! Remus needed confirmation: "— unless _he_ was the one . . . Unless you switched . . . without telling me?" He looked back at Sirius again, who now slowly nodded, his eyes still glued to Remus'.

"Professor Lupin, what's going on –?"

Suddenly, he understood what Sirius had been though. All the years in Azkaban, this year on the loose, all those attempts to break into Hogwarts, all the hate he'd weathered (and if there was anything Remus understood it was being hated for no good reason!) . . .

Not knowing what else to do, he lowered his wand and offered a hand to help Sirius up. The cat jumped to the floor, but Remus still looked at Sirius, who now had a tiny glint in his eyes that reminded him at the younger version of Black and told him the truth. When Sirius stood, he hugged him, feeling that he finally had his Marauder and best friend back.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" he heard Hermione yell.

He let go of Sirius and saw that the trio didn't understand a word of what had just happened.

"You — you –"

"Hermione –"

"— you and him!"

The girl was almost hyperventilating.

"Hermione, calm down –"

"I didn't tell anyone! I've been covering up for you –"

"Hermione, listen to me, please! I can explain –" But as soon as he had shouted the words he got a feeling that Hermione was talking about something else also.

"I trusted you and all the time you've been his friend!" Harry now started yelling, literally shaking with fury.

"You're wrong. I haven't been Sirius' friend, but I am now – let me explain . . ."

But the trio (Hermione and Harry especially) were too upset to actually listen to him.

"NO!" Hermione screamed and looking at Harry, she added, "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too – _he's a werewolf_!"

Suddenly, all the yelling stopped. The room was silent, as if someone- no, something, - had just died. Harry and Ron were both looking at him with surprise and fear, and Remus knew that he now had to explain even more. He didn't care that Hermione had found out (although it did explain why she had been acting so weird around him). It was time for the truth. He started calmly:

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione. Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead . . ." It was still a bit hard to say it out loud and he shivered. "But I won't deny that I'm a werewolf."

No one moved except for Ron, who was now trying to get up and run away. However, his leg was unable to support his weight and he fell back on the bed, looking even paler than he had been. His leg looked extremely painful. Without thinking, Remus walked towards the bed to help Ron, but Ron gasped: _"Get away from me, werewolf!"_

It still hurt as much as the first time that Remus had heard those words. They had come from the girl who lived next door, in the time before he went to Hogwarts. She had been a half-blood too, and their families had a lot of contact with each other. That is, they did, until he got bitten and her parents had forbidden Susan to play with Remus.

Without looking too upset, he turned around again, to face Hermione, and asked: "How long have you known?"

"Ages," she whispered, looking shocked and still confused. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay…."

So Snape had gotten what he wanted to happen all the time. "He'll be delighted. He set that essay hoping someone would realise what my symptoms meant. Did you check the lunar chart and realise that I was always ill at the full moon?" he asked, knowing that that had been one of the ways Sirius and the others had gotten confirmation of their suspicions. "Or did you realise the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said, quietly. She looked a bit ashamed of her shouting that he had been a werewolf, but Remus knew that she did not fully realise how much she had hurt him. He forced a bit of a laugh; what else could he do? He wasn't in a position to be angry: there were too many things that needed to be explained.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione," he said, when he still saw that she was looking at the ground and saw again that she regretted her outburst.

"I'm not," she whispered as a reply. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!" Remus felt a sudden wave of compassion for her: Hermione now said that she should have told everyone, but fact remained that she hadn't, which meant that she still trusted him at least a little bit. Her outburst only had been because of Sirius.

"But they already know. At least, the staff do." The trio looked surprised, and it was hard for Remus not to laugh.

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf? Is he mad?" Ron now asked. His logic made Remus smile even more. It reminded him of the first time he had heard Ron speak, with the same logic and honesty. ("He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he?")

"Some of the staff thought so. He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy –" he said, thinking of Snape in particular, but he was cut off by Harry, who was still looking furious and suddenly had an outburst.

"AND HE WAS WRONG! YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" He yelled, pointing at Sirius, who let himself fell on the bed, while Ron made an effort to get as far away from him as possible.

"I have _not_ been helping Sirius," he repeated. "If you give me a change, I'll explain. Look –" He didn't know where to start with the story, but it was crucial that the trio would at least listen. Giving them back their weapons, now they had raged and were a bit more calm seemed okay, so he threw the wand at them. "There. You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

The surprise in Harry's eyes couldn't be greater at this unexpected move; however, he was still suspicious. "If you haven't been helping him, how did you know he was here?" Harry was still looking angrily at Sirius. Though Remus could understand why, at the same time he knew that Harry was glaring at the wrong person.

"The map. The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it –"

"You know how to work it?" Harry interrupted. Remus was getting frustrated; at this rate, they would never get anywhere, and there was so much to tell . . .

"Of course I know how to work it. I helped write it. I'm Moony –" he got an odd, happy feeling when he repeated the long-unused nickname, "That was my friends' nickname for me at school."

"You _wrote_ –?"

"The important thing is," he cut Harry off, "I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?" He started to pace up and down as he repeated the events of that night, hoping not to confuse them further.

"You might have been wearing your father's Cloak, Harry –" he said, now suddenly reminded of the weird silver mass that had been lying by the tree.

"How d'you know about the Cloak?" Harry interrupted him, surprised.

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it . . ." He waved his hand . . . Harry was taking him off topic every time he tried to say something. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak you show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back towards the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What? No, we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes," Remus said, pacing and speaking more to Sirius and himself than the trio. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us," he heard Harry say impatiently, as if he thought that Remus was losing his mind.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast towards you, labelled _Sirius Black_ . . . I saw him collide with you, I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow –"

"One of us!" Ron now interrupted him. Remus looked up at Ron, who was staring angrily at Sirius.

"No, Ron. Two of you." Remus stopped pacing, looking at the rat, who was at that moment still trying to get away, out of Ron's pocket, as the bump in it was moving furiously.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?"

"What? What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything. Could I see him, please?"

Remus tried to force Ron with his eyes to give him the rat. Ron hesitated for one more moment, and then pulled out the rat and held him in his hands. The cat near Sirius started to hiss and Remus walked closer to Ron, examining the pet closely. This was him, there was no doubt about it. Wormtail looked older, and more devastated than Remus had ever seen him, but he would recognize that particular colour of fur everywhere, especially after what he found out tonight . . . Besides, it was not normal for a rat to be suddenly so afraid and eager to escape. Peter, however, had a very good reason. He was standing in the same room with two of his former best friends, one who he had tricked in twelve years in Azkaban and the son of his other best friend, who's father he had helped murdering….

The rat was avoiding his eyes, but the moment that 'Scabbers' looked into his eyes, Remus got a feeling that there was no doubt possible; This was Peter Pettigrew.

"What? What's my rat got to do with anything?"

Before Remus could answer, Sirius spoke, for the first time since he had seen Remus.

"That's not a rat," his voice croaked. Remus glanced at him and saw that Sirius was getting impatient.

"What d'you mean – of course he's a rat –"

"No, he's not. He's a wizard."

"An Animagus," Sirius now said, trying to make it more clear for them, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

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_Please don't get dissapointed: This chapter and the next one are both a bit hard to write by myself: there has to be a lot of talking straight out of the books... I'll try to give my own spinn to it as much as possible..._

_O, now I still talk to you guys...Who can find the sentence in this chapter where I have said something about Remus that makes him look like Snape?_

_Review please!_


	10. The tale of the wolf

Yay! update! A little later than planned, but school is hell at the moment, and I knew that I wouldn't like to type this chapter, seeing as not half of the text below is my own... (and that is also my statement for this chapter that I ain't JK)

thanks to my beta LEAD, and enjoy reading!

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Remus had never seen such surprised faces as those of Harry, Hermione and Ron when Sirius finished that sentence. There was a silence in which the three students looked at him and Sirius as if they were incredibly stupid.

"You're both mental," Ron ended the silence.

"Ridiculous!" Hermione said faintly.

"Peter Pettigrew is dead!" Harry said, looking as if he had to make a great effort to keep himself from shouting again. "He killed him twelve years ago!" Harry pointed at Sirius.

"I meant to, but little Peter got the better of me . . ." Sirius looked suddenly at the rat in Ron's hands. "Not this time though!"

Before Remus could understand what was happening, Sirius jumped at Ron, shaking off the cat that was lying on him, and was falling with all his weight on Ron's leg.

_But wait…_ Remus' brain was working on top-speed…. If _they killed Pettigrew before they explained to Harry and his friends, how could they ever explain it? _

"Sirius, NO!" Remus shouted, and he pulled Sirius off Ron, who yelled in pain. "WAIT! You can't do it just like that – they need to understand – we've got to explain—," he said, trying to keep his old friend away from Ron.

"We can explain afterwards!" Sirius tried to throw Remus off, but Remus only grabbed him more. Remus looked at Ron, who was holding Peter tightly, but that didn't prevent "Scabbers" from wriggling and scratching Ron's face. He felt himself growing tired and knew that he had to find another way to convince Sirius that his own tactic was the best.

"They've – got – a – right – to – know – everything!" Sirius seemed to listen, while trying to reach the rat, and was struggling less hard. "Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don't understand!" It seemed that Sirius had chosen not to listen anymore and was again struggling as hard as he could. Then it came to him: the argument he knew Sirius would at least listen to.

"And Harry —" Sirius slowed down again, "You owe Harry the truth, Sirius!"

Sirius stopped almost immediately. He still had his eyes fixed on Peter, but he had stopped trying to catch him.

"All right, then. Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for . . ."

Remus noticed that Sirius said it with an air of nonchalance, but at the same time it was obvious that it did matter to him what Harry and his friends thought. Remus opened his mouth, to start, but . . .

"You're nutters, both of you. I've had enough of this. I'm off," said Ron, his eyes flashing from Hermione and Harry towards Sirius and Remus.

But leaving wasn't an option, and Remus had to make that clear. He pointed his wand at Ron (Although Peter was the real object he was aiming for,) and said quietly, in a demanding tone,

"You're going to hear me out, Ron. Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen."

"HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!" Ron yelled back. He had tried to swing himself off the bed to stand again. He now almost fell to the floor, with no hands to break his fall because they were still busy with holding Peter. Harry caught Ron before he fell, put him back on the bed and turned to Remus.

"There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die. A whole street full of them . . ."

"They didn't see what they thought they saw!" Sirius snarled, and Remus suddenly remembered that Peter had always been rather good in disillusion-spells . . .

"Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter. I believed it myself – until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder's Map never lies . . . Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry," he said gently, trying to make them see it. But the moment he was done talking, he saw Harry sharing a look with Ron, agreeing with each other that they thought Sirius and Remus were crazy.

"But Professor Lupin . . . Scabbers can't be Pettigrew... it just can't be true, you know it can't . . ." Hermione's voice spoke to him with the same tone as he had tried to persuade them.

"Why can't it be true?" he asked calmly, waiting her out, knowing that he couldn't be wrong.

"Because... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonnagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework – the Ministry keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal you can become, and their markings and things . . . and I went and looked Professor McGonnagall up on the register, and there have only been seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list—"

Before Hermione had finished her story, Remus started to laugh. This whole situation was somewhat ridiculous. Here he was, sitting with two school friends in the same room, trying to explain to three teenagers that one of them was a murderer, and that it wasn't the one they thought. And there Hermione was, trying to make everything work out logically in her head and coming up with her best argument, as if she was trying to say that he was wrong . . . as if it was some kind of game . . .

"Right again, Hermione! But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

"If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus. I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer," said Sirius, who still had his eyes fixed on Peter.

"All right . . . but you'll need to help me, Sirius. I only know how it began . . ." He was going to add that it was necessary for them to start that early, but he was interrupted again, this time by a loud creak, while the door opened of its own accord.

"No one there . . ." he said, to comfort both the students and himself. He wondered if he had spoken the truth in that last sentence.

"This place is haunted!" Ron said, his voice sounding somewhat higher.

"It's not. The Shrieking Shack was never haunted . . . the screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me." Although he didn't look at anyone in particular, he felt that (with the exception of Sirius') he had all eyes on him. This was actually a good point to start from . . . he pushed some hair out of his face . . .

"That's where all of this starts – with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten . . . and if I hadn't been so foolhardy . . ."

Unexpectedly, he felt a huge wave of guilt. If he hadn't gone to Hogwarts, as normal werewolves didn't, he would never have become a Marauder, they would never have become Animagi to help him, and perhaps James and Lily could have been saved. And if it they couldn't, at least their real killer would be locked up . . . He heard Hermione shushing Ron and realised that they were waiting for more.

"I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform...I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again."

Explaining everything was easier than he thought and he felt actually a bit relieved.

"Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me."

His mind wandered for a second at his last year in primary school. He hadn't had a lot of contact with them, especially because his parents had made a habit of moving quickly from one town to another since he got ill, but it still had made him sad to hear about all their future plans and next schools they would go to. He had probably then just realised that a normal future wouldn't be possible anymore . . .

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that, as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school."

In a flash, Remus remembered his conversation with Harry, when his tongue had almost slipped with regard to a certain tree.

"I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted _because_ I had come to Hogwarts. This house," he motioned with his hands around him, "the tunnel that leads to it – they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous."

He felt the same as he had felt back then; sad, lonely and afraid for what had to come those nights. He sighed inaudibly and proceeded, glad that no one was interrupting.

He told them more. About the pain he endured in that time, pain that came with every transformation. About the howls, and the scratching and the villagers, and how they believed the place was haunted. How Dumbledore had encouraged that thought – he had even put sound effect spells on the house so that the villagers wouldn't wonder why they only heard the howls at a full moon.

He looked around. Harry was listening, his face unreadable. Hermione was looking at him, nodding at almost every sentence he spoke, while Ron was lying on the bed, not looking, because he still needed both his hands and eyes for Peter, who was the only one making any noise. Sirius had his eyes on Peter, and stood with his back towards Remus, but something in his posture made Remus sure that he also was listening intensely. Remus realised that he had never talked so freely about his condition and history as tonight, not even when he had been in school.

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black . . ." He looked at him, and Sirius had turned his head and looked back . . . in one gaze, Remus understood that Sirius felt sorry for him, but at the same time wanted to end the story very quickly, "Peter Pettigrew," he said, looking at the rat, who lay still for one moment and looked back. For as far as it was possible for a rat, his eyes looked scared . . . "And, of course, your father, Harry – James Potter." Harry looked back. In the dark room, his eyes were barely visible, and if Remus hadn't told himself a thousand times this year that Harry was Harry, not James, he would have been sure that James was standing there.

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sort of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her . . . I was terrified they would desert me the moment that found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth . . ."

He thought back at the werewolf-lesson in the second year, when he had sat with a red face, believing that everyone could see an arrow pointing to him, with big neon-lights spelling out the word _werewolf_ . . .

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."

Sirius shot him another look.

"My dad too?" Harry now asked, his mouth hanging a bit open and his eyes surprised.

"Yes, indeed," he answered, and immediately, Remus saw Prongs in his mind. "It took them the better part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong – one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius."

Speaking Peter's name reminded Remus why they were here.

"Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" Hermione asked.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals. A werewolf is only a danger to people. They snuck out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed . . . Peter, as the smallest," he shot the still squeaking rat a disgusted look, "could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

He opened his mouth to tell some more about their Animagus transformations, but he got cut of by Sirius.

"Hurry up, Remus!"

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there . . . well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now we could all transform. Soon, we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did . . ." He couldn't help himself: the last sentence came out proudly.

"And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

"What sort of animal–?" Harry began to ask a question Remus had fully expected since he had started to tell about their Animagi adventures. However, he was cut off by Hermione.

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

Hermione had somehow figured out his worst fear. Had she guessed it from his Boggart form or did she just said what she thought? He swallowed and said, a bit more quietly:

"A thought that still haunts me. And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless – carried away with our own cleverness."

He found it hard to swallow. He had thought about his school time quite a lot this last year. He had thought about how he had been betraying Dumbledore during that time also, but only now he realised that he had never cared back then: he even had laughed about it, hadn't he? How much had he changed? Now he almost felt the weight of the secret pressing on his shoulders . . .

But had he changed? He remembered that he had that guilt, but had only pushed it away as far as he could.

"I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course . . ." He was saying this more for his own sake than for his audience's.

"He had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other Headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed . . ." he said those last words suddenly, understanding that he hadn't changed a bit.

"All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me . . . and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job, when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using Dark Arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it . . ."

Remus had forgotten completely that he had an audience listening, consisting of a rat who was his former friend, a falsely accused mass-murderer, waiting until he could murder, and three students, whose mouths were hanging open at the moment.

". . . so in a way, Snape's been right about me all along," he said, even more miserable. Remus had helped Sirius . . . by doing nothing to stop him . . .

"Snape? What's Snape got to do with it?"

Remus barely noticed that he suddenly had Sirius' full attention. Waves of guilt were trying to drown him, and when he thought about the prank they had played on him, he had gotten the feeling he was sinking.

"He's here, Sirius. He's teaching here as well." He looked up and around and met the eyes of Ron, Hermione and Harry. Talking and explaining himself seemed to help a bit against the drowning.

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons . . ." Remus hesitated. Was he really going to tell his students about one of the pranks they had pulled? Especially one that could be considered a criminal offence?

". . . you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me —"

He heard Sirius making a derisive noise, and knew in one moment that Sirius' disregard for rules and James' arrogance had made him feel less guilty in those days. Did that mean that they had been a bad influence on him?

"It served him right. Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to . . . hoping he could get us expelled . . ." Sirius said. Despite the massive amounts of guilt Remus was feeling, he still smiled a bit: Sirius had still the same sneer when he was talking about Snape . . .

"Severus was very interested in where we went every month. We were in the same year, you know, and we – er —" _Pranked him? Pestered him? Hated him as much as he hated us?_ His mind was making up all sorts of endings to that sentence. ". . . didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch pitch . . ." But that wasn't really true. It seemed as if Snape had never been interested in flying . . . so was he jealous of James because all the fame? What else could he have wanted that James got in the end?

". . . anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me towards the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be – er – amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree-trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it – if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf – but your father," he was now looking at Harry, trying hard to sound not too accusing toward Sirius while telling this (after all, he was telling their whole history only to make Harry, Ron and Hermione understand that Sirius was innocent), "who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life . . ." he had heard this all afterwards of course, but knowing that his condition was actually the cause of all that mayhem made him sad. "Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden to tell anybody by Dumbledore, but from that time on he knew what I was . . ."

The floorboards behind him creaked again and Harry said, looking as though everything had suddenly become quite clear: "So that's why Snape doesn't like you, because he thought you were in on the joke?"

Before Lupin could answer the question, someone else did. Someone, who could only make their situation worse.

"That's right." The voice was cold and sneering and could only belong to one person.

When Lupin turned around, he was facing a wand two centimetres away from his nose, and Severus Snape, holding James' Invisibility Cloak.

Hermione screamed, Ron immediately sat up straighter, although his face got paler by the second, Harry jumped a bit and Sirius, who had still been sitting on the bed, leapt to his feet. Snape started to speak, and his wand lowered from Remus's nose towards his chest.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow. Very useful, Potter, I thank you . . ." When no one said anything, he proceeded, in the same, maniacal tone: "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here? I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did . . . lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

While Snape spoke, Remus already connected the dots . . . if Snape had seen him running through the passageway, he must've been here the whole time . . . But why would he act as if he didn't know the whole story? Surely he could understand it all? Or had he only heard the part where he told them about becoming a werewolf? In a split second he heard Ron say, in his head: _This place is haunted . . . _yes, it had been haunted by Snape . . .

"Severus —" he began, but Snape was already interrupting him, and although Remus wouldn't admit it, the glint in Snape's eye was really scaring him . . .

"I've told the Headmaster again and again that you've been helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout —"

"Severus, you're making a mistake," Remus started. It was necessary that Snape understood. Hate from more than thirteen years ago couldn't become the reason that Sirius would be locked up again . . . or worse . . . "You haven't heard everything – I can explain – Sirius is not here to kill Harry —"

But was of no use. Snape was obviously not listening.

"Two more for Azkaban tonight. I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this . . . he was quite convinced you were harmless, you know Lupin . . . a t_ame_ werewolf . . ."

But for once, insulting his condition didn't make Remus sad. It made him angry. Angry enough to reply. Softly, with a deadly tone in his voice, he said:

"You fool. Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back in Azkaban?"

There wouldn't even be time to jump away if he had wanted to. With a loud BANG, Snape's wand shot ropes, which tangled themselves around Remus's mouth, ankles and wrists. Remus knew that Snape had an extra meaning with this spell; it had been one of the many they had used on him back in their time at school.

With a roar, Sirius ran towards Snape, jumping over Remus who had fallen to the ground. Snape put him wand between Black his eyes and said in a low, deadly voice:

"Give me a reason. Give me a reason to do it and I swear I will."

Sirius stopped. Although Remus could only see Snape's face from his vantage point on the floor, he had a pretty clear idea how Sirius' looked.

There was a moment of silence. Remus tried to wriggle out of the ropes, while knowing that these ropes, produced by a spell, wouldn't let go at all.

"Professor Snape —" Hermione stopped. Snape was looking at her with such a glint in his eyes that she took a little step back. However, she finished her sentence. " – It – wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?" Remus found her very brave, but knew at the same time, just like the ropes he had produced, Snape wouldn't give in.

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school. You, Potter and Weasley

are out of bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, _hold your tongue_." It was a true art that Snape could hiss those last three words, when there wasn't an 's' in it. If Hermione heard the dangerous tone and decided to go against it, or if she had just been too stupid to realize that now was not the right moment to interrupt Snape, Remus would never know. The fact was that Hermione tried again.

"But if – there _was _a mistake —"

"KEEP QUIET YOU STUPID GIRL! DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Remus could hear Ron try (for the umpteenth time, it seemed) to stand up and come off the bed, but besides that, no one spoke. Remus could only see Snape's face. He didn't know if it was because of the light, or because he saw it from underneath, but it was all twisted and dark in places were faces were normally more light.

"Vengeance is very sweet. How I hoped I would be the one to catch you . . ."

"The joke's on you again, Severus. As long as this boy brings his rat to the castle, I'll come quietly . . ." Sirius said to Snape. But the glint in his eyes only seemed to get worse when he heard Sirius speak.

"Up to the castle?" he asked. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black . . . pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay . . ."

Remus was panicking. If Sirius was soulless, no one but himself would know who the real betrayer was . . . Hermione might have her doubts right now, but he didn't hear her interrupt Snape anymore. Then they hadn't been convinced by his story . . .

"Come on, all of you." Snape clicked his fingers and Remus felt that he was being pulled up, leaving the end of the ropes in Snape's hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him, too —" Remus barely heard the insults and threats. He was facing Harry, who was walking towards the door. Was he that easily convinced by Snape to go?

But Harry didn't go through the door. Instead, he stood still before it, facing the rest of the room.

"Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already. If I hadn't been here to save your skin —"

But Harry interrupted him. "Professsor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year. I've been alone with him loads of times, having Defence lessons against the Dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

Harry was thinking rationally; Snape was not, and there was no way he would appreciate Harry's doing so.

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works. Get out of the way, Potter."

But Harry didn't like this comment either. Before Remus knew it, Harry's face was torn and he started yelling again, this time at Snape instead of him.

"YOU'RE PATHETIC! JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN —"

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape yelled back. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck, you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black —" While Remus's mind was racing to find a solution to this situation, he couldn't help but think that Harry would hate to hear this. And besides, Harry still didn't trust Black: he only had tried to prove in his previous speech at Snape that Remus was innocent.

"-now get out of the way, or I will _make_ you." Snape said to Harry.

But Harry stood still.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY POTTER!"

Snape was walking towards Harry, with his wand in one hand and in the other the end of the ropes he held Remus with. But Remus didn't budge, despite the attempts of Snape to drag him forward. He also stood still.

This gave Harry time.

Time to pull out his wand, and he yelled: "_Expelliarmus_!"

Remus hadn't noticed that Hermione and Ron had also drawn their wands and shouted the spell. Snape was blasted into the air, and he collapsed into the wall, unconscious.

Remus lost his balance and fell on the floor again, this time facing the unconscious Snape. There was some blood dripping on the floor. It looked like it was coming from his head . . .

He heard that Sirius was saying something, but couldn't make out what, because at the same time, Hermione was rambling.

"We attacked a teacher . . . we attacked a teacher . . . oh, we are going to be in so much trouble —"

Remus heard someone coming towards him, cutting the ropes. When he turned around he saw Sirius' face. He had a bit of a laugh around his mouth.

When Remus stood up, he could hear him whisper: "He is so much like James, Remus."

'Remus nodded and looked at the trio, while rubbing his wrists.

"Thank you, Harry."

"I'm still not saying that I believe you," Harry said.

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," Sirius cut in. "You, boy – give me Peter. Now."

Remus rolled up his sleeves. Time to expose the rat . . .

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Okay, so if you now want to sent an angry review, telling me that I only copy and not write, please take notice of the fact that I completely agree with you. (concerning this chapter) However, I couldn't find another way to make it more my own, without changing the words that are written in POA... And I couldn't just skip this piece... it's important... hell, it's part of the end!

If you want to leave a review, please do so! You even don't have to say anything about the story, (you can if you would like to,) just chat with me! Did anyone took their WOMBATS?

xxx-mokimik-xxx


	11. Telling and showing

ow, yeah, I don't own Harry Potter... and if people ask, I had never intentions to own it one day...

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But if Remus had expected that Ron would give up his pet easily, now they had thrown Snape against a wall, he was very wrong.

"Come off it. Are you trying to say that you broke out of Azkaban just to get your hands on _Scabbers_? I mean . . . okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat – there are millions of rats – how's he supposed to know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"

Remus noticed two things about that question. Ron was, just as Harry, still referring to him, not to Sirius. And Ron had asked a question that had Remus flabbergasted. It was without a doubt the best question asked to him this year. So what did this mean? Was Sirius still the bad guy? It was too hard for Remus to fall back into that lie again, but still, he had to know.

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question. How _did_ you find out were he was?"

Sirius looked him for a second out of accusing eyes, and then slowly moved his hand towards his pocket. He pulled out a crumbled piece of what looked like a newspaper, smoothed it flat on his trousers, and moved it in the direction of Remus and the students.

The first thing Remus saw was that it had a moving picture on it. The picture was of a family, and his eyes fell on the little girl in the middle. That was Ginny Weasley! But that meant . . . his eyes fell on the boy next to her, who was obviously Ron, and then immediately noticed the greyish rat on his shoulders. That explained it!

"How did you get this?" he looked up to Sirius' face, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Fudge. When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me this paper. And there was Peter, on the front page . . . on this boy's shoulder . . . I knew at once . . . how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts . . . to where Harry was . . ."

Remus saw Sirius swallow hard, but focused his attention to the piece of paper again, to find more similarities between Peter and the rat. Had Sirius based his whole escape on just one picture of a rat? Had he really gone mad in Azkaban, or was there more?

The family was waving energetically, with huge smiles on their faces. Scabbers was looking a great deal healthier than he did at present. He looked at the live version of Scabbers (who had just tried to bite Ron again) and back at the photo. If he were to tell anyone that the rat on the photo and in this room were the same, they would probably laugh and ask if he was mad. But then the Scabbers in the photo moved a bit on Ron's shoulder, and it all seemed to become clear:

"My God. His front paw . . ."

"What about it?" Ron immediately asked, now trying to hold Peter and making an attempt to pull his sleeves farther down his arms so Scabbers couldn't bite them again. But Remus was looking at Sirius, who had now a glimmer of a smile in his eyes and around his mouth.

"He's got a toe missing," Sirius answered Ron.

"Of course," Remus said, more to himself than to anyone else. He had read the – for him exceedingly painful – headlines back in the day: _Mass murder; only a finger found of the wizard victim._ Of course he had, when he had seen that the paper was starting with that subject on their front-page –again-, threw the paper in the waste bin, denying at that moment that it had been his friends they were writing about. "So simple . . ." Peter had made a tiny sacrifice to make it even more believable that he was innocent and dead, "So _brilliant _. . ."he looked up, and met Sirius' eyes again. "He cut it off himself?"

Sirius was nodding heavily and explained. Although it was hard for him to hear the story in such detail, he knew that this was not half as bad as Sirius had felt for the past thirteen years.

"Just before he transformed. When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself – and sped down onto the sewer with the other rats . . ."

Remus swallowed and turned to the trio, all three of whom were looking flabbergasted.

"Didn't you ever hear, Ron? The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger."

But Remus saw that Ron wasn't buying it. Hermione and Harry, however, were oddly quiet, and Remus had a feeling that he was finally getting through to them.

"Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right—"

Remus cut him off. There was another clue! Ron had presented it him on a silver platter.

"Twelve years, in fact. Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"

Ron got a bit red. "We – we've been taking good care of him!"

But Remus was barely listening to Ron's excuses. Every moment, he got new clues that proved Scabbers was Peter.

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he? I'd guess that he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again . . ."

He looked at Sirius and could swear that he saw a grin.

"He's been scared of that mad cat!"

Lupin looked around. The cat was looking at Scabbers intensely. Hermione was looking angrily at Ron, and Harry was slowly shaking his head.

"This cat isn't mad," Sirius said suddenly. Remus looked around, surprised. Sirius was a dog as an Animagus. How could he ever like a cat? He shook his head to get that thought out, and listened.

"He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognised Peter for what he was straight away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me. Finally I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he's been helping . . ."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, puzzled, but looking a bit more kindly at Sirius now that he had spoken so generously about her pet.

"He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't . . . so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me . . . as I understand it, he took them from a boy's bedside table . . ."

When the other three humans in the room were thinking what kind of effect this had on their ideas about Black, Remus remembered that Sirius had once claimed to have had an entire conversation with an owl, who had told him that the owls actually had made a society to improve the size of the cages. Back then, Remus had thought that Sirius had made it up, and maybe he had, but somehow, Sirius could still communicate with animals in his Animagus form.

Sirius continued.

"But Peter got wind of what he was going and ran for it . . . this cat – Crookshanks, did you call him?" (Hermione nodded) "—told me Peter had left blood on the sheets . . . I suppose he bit himself . . ." this was news to Remus, but with all the new insights in his head, he wasn't very shocked by it . . . it now seemed to have been a very Peter-like thing to do.

Harry, however, still tried to deny that Remus and Sirius had made a good point . . .

"And why did he fake his death? Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!"

Remus didn't have to look at Sirius to know how much Harry's words were hurting him.

"No. Harry—" But Harry didn't listen at all.

"And now you've come to finish him off!"

Remus wanted to correct Harry, but before he could, Sirius spoke.

"Yes, I have."

"Then I should've let Snape take you!"

"Harry, don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down – but it was the other way around, don't you see?" They were all impatient and on edge, and he heard that his own voice wasn't an exception. "_Peter_ betrayed your mother and father – Sirius tracked _Peter_ down—"

But it seemed that Harry wasn't thinking logically anymore, as he had done when Snape had entered. Ron was looking uncertain, and Hermione was nodding, showing that she understood the story. Harry, on the other hand, started yelling again.

"THAT'S NOT TRUE! HE WAS THEIR SECRET KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP, HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"

Remus didn't understand why Sirius would have said that, and he looked at him, asking himself at the same time how Harry had known all this about his parents.

"Harry, I as good as killed them." Remus saw that Sirius was very moved and upset. His eyes were a bit watery. "I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as a Secret Keeper instead of me . . . I'm to blame, I know it . . ." Remus saw him swallow. "The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone." Sirius talked fast, with an emotion in his voice that begged Harry to listen, that begged everyone to listen. "Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared, I set out for your parent's house straight away." When Sirius mentioned this, Remus immediately had an image of Sirius, on his huge motorbike, riding towards Godric's Hollow at the same, fast speed he had used when he'd arrived for Christmas dinner the year before everything had fallen apart. Remus had been standing in the back garden then, jumping out of the way when Sirius landed, and remembered hearing Lily scream at Sirius for nearly half an hour for destroying the garden furniture they had gotten from her parents, while James and himself laughed quietly behind her.

"And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies—" Remus looked away, "I realised what Peter must have done. What I'd done."

Sirius turned around and didn't speak any further. Remus felt a sort of rage beginning to eat his insides, trying to get out. He had never had this before. How could Peter have done it? After all the things they had been through as true marauders, as true _friends_? How could Peter have lived with himself for the past thirteen years, while knowing that he had killed – no, worse – _betrayed_ his friend and caused his death, and had blamed another for doing so?

"Enough of this," he heard himself say harshly. He saw that Harry still didn't believe Sirius and himself fully and that only got him more angry. He had never felt so enraged about anything in his life. Peter needed to be punished – now. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, _give me that rat_." He said the last words with such a force that it seemed to be an order. Still, Ron didn't budge.

"What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?"

"Force him to show himself," he answered, but still in that same, harsh tone. When he noticed that Ron was hesitating, he added: "If he's really a rat, it won't hurt him."

The hesitateing look in Ron's eyes grew stronger, and then he stuck out his hand with Peter in it. Remus took the rat, which started to squeak and wriggle even more. He looked at Peter for a moment, and got the urge to break his neck right now, just as Sirius had wanted to do before Remus had stopped him. How easy it would be; he wouldn't even have to hear the lies Peter would be telling in a moment. But then his tiny voice of logic sense (that was still somewhere in Remus' enraged mind) said that if he didn't show the real Peter, Harry would still not believe that Sirius was innocent, and his whole story about the marauders, his situation, and James would be for nothing.

"Ready, Sirius?" He turned to his friend, who had the same hunger in his eyes as Remus felt, only multiplied by thirteen years, nodded. Remus also saw that Sirius' eyes were wet, but he didn't fix his attention to it; right now, the rat was trying to bite him. Sirius had already taken Snape's wand from the bed, and approached Remus, his eyes fixed on Peter.

"Together?" Sirius asked in a low whisper.

"I think so. On the count of three. One – two – THREE!"

Remus said the spell mentally and let Peter go. For a moment, he thought that it wasn't working, that they had made a mistake.

Two light blue flashes shot at the rat, which hit the floor with a thud. Then there came a white light, the same thing that had happened when they had forced James to transform back when he was being forced to complete a Potions assignment with Snape.

Quickly, the rat transformed from a rat to human. Remus would have been startled, had he not expected this to happen. When the transformation was done, Remus didn't knew which form he preferred; rats were disgusting creatures, but so was the human who stood in front of him with, Remus noticed immediately, no index finger.

Though undeniably human at this point, Peter still looked like a rat. For a second, Remus wondered if that had anything to do with being in one's Animagus form so long, but then he focused back on the man in front of him.

"Well, hello, Peter. Long time no see." It was with great difficulty that he kept his voice calm and steady; inside he was still raging.

Peter shuddered at the sound of Remus' voice, seeming to become even more rat-like.

"S-Sirius . . . R-Remus . . . My friends . . . my old friends . . ." Remus saw Peter's eyes flickering towards the door. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Sirius was already raising his wand to destroy the evil little creature in front of them. But that couldn't happen! Remus saw that Harry and the others were looking at them with their mouths open, and probably would believe them. But Remus needed to hear Peter confess his crimes; after all, killing him off wouldn't actually prove anything. He grabbed Sirius' wrist and shot him a warning look. Sirius barely even looked at Remus: his eyes were filled with hate towards Peter.

"We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed—" His dangerously calm voice was interrupted by Peter, who was still squeaking, but now in human syllables.

"Remus, you don't believe him, do you . . . he tried to kill me, Remus . . ." Sweat was breaking out on the little man's forehead, and he was carefully avoiding eye contact with Sirius, his eyes darting from Remus back to the door.

"So we've heard. I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'd be so—"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew shrieked suddenly. Remus was slightly insulted; did Peter honestly think him so dim that he would fall for this obvious attempt to escape?

"He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me, too . . . you've got to help me, Remus . . ." The lies Pettigrew was telling only made Remus more sure about his decision to kill him after he had heard the whole story.

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out."

"Sorted things out? I'd knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!" Pettigrew's voice rose higher.

"You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban? When nobody has ever done it before?" Remus tried not to shout at the horrible man in front of him, but it was hard not to when he told such unbelievable lies.

"He's got Dark powers the rest of us can only dream of! How else did he get out of there? I suppose He Who Must Not Be Named taught him a few tricks!" Remus felt his blood boiling. How could he? How could Pettigrew, even now and in front of Harry, still lie? Did Peter think that he still had a change to make himself believable?

Before Remus could say anything, Sirius started to laugh, in a cold, hollow tone. It gave Remus shivers and made him uncomfortable.

"Voldemort, teach me tricks? What, scared to hear your old master's name?" he continued, when Peter flinched and could barely hide a squeaking sound. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

His eyes now glanced with an almost begging look to the door.

"Don't know – what you mean, Sirius—"

"You haven't been hiding from _me_ for twelve years. You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter . . . they all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them . . . I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information . . . and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways . . . If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter—" Sirius walked closer and closer to the trembling man, almost forcing him to look into his eyes. Remus stood still, listening to both of them. He knew that Sirius had to do parts of this alone... it had been his hunt for almost thirteen years, until half an hour ago. He felt another shiver running up his neck and wondered for a second if it could have to do with something else than his old friends bickering.

"Don't know . . . what you're talking about . . .You don't believe this – this madness, Remus—" So Peter was trying to appeal to the old voice of reason. In the same, cold, calm voice, he said, "I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat."

"Innocent, but scared! If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban – the spy, Sirius Black!"

Remus had to admit it: Peter had a lot of courage to say that last part with such force, when Sirius was at that point towering over him.

"How dare you!" Sirius growled. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us . . . me and Remus . . . and James . . ." Remus saw Sirius glance at Harry, who was still looking sceptical, though less than before, now that they had shown that the rat was indeed a man.

"Me, a spy . . . must be out of your mind . . . never . . . don't know how you can say such a—"

But Sirius was losing his patience. "Lily and James only made you Secret Keeper because I suggested it. I thought it was the perfect plan . . . a bluff . . . Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you . . . it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

Remus felt another cold shiver. Then he noticed there was a draft coming in the half-rotted window and the door that was still standing open after Snape had entered. While Peter muttered something, Hermione suddenly said:

"Professor Lupin? Can – can I say something?" She was looking timid, but seemed to understand the situation completely. She was probably going to ask some more things, just to clarify the subject a bit more.

"Certainly, Hermione."

"Well – Scabbers – I mean, this – this man – he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You Know Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?"

"There!" Pettigrew practically screamed at Remus and Sirius, happy to hear another reason he could use to his advantage. "Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair on Harry's head! Why should I?"

Perhaps that the comment about Harry's hair and being suddenly reminded of the genes they came from made him even more angry, or perhaps Sirius was losing more and more patience every second. All Remus knew was that before he could barely open his mouth himself, Sirius had spoken.

"I'll tell you why. Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for twelve years, they say he's half-dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him . . ."

It looked as if Peter wanted to answer, but Sirius didn't let him, and every time, he closed his mouth again.

"Er – Mr. Black – Sirius?" Hermione now looked at him and Remus smiled a bit. They almost had her convinced. Sirius looked bewilderedly around, finally tearing his eyes from Peter, who was looking at the door again. Sirius looked at Hermione as if he had hardly noticed that she was still there.

"If you don't mind me asking, how – how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

Peter took advantage of that opportunity to nod frantically and begin speaking very fast: "Thank you! Exactly! Precisely what I—" But Remus looked at him with such anger, that he fell silent.

Hermione was still looking at Sirius, who was now talking slowly, explaining.

"I don't know how I did it. I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, though, so the Dementors couldn't suck it out of me . . . but it kept me sane and knowing who I am . . . helped me keep my powers . . . so when it all became . . ." he was making a vague hand gesture and Remus felt his heart bleed, " too much . . . I could transform in my cell . . . become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know . . ." He looked at Hermione, who nodded and was listening intensely. "They feel their way towards people by sensing their emotions . . . they could tell that my feelings were less – less human, less complex when I was a dog . . . but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me with a wand . . . But then I saw Peter in that picture . . . I realised he was at Hogwarts, with Harry . . . perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again . . . ready to strike the moment he could be sure of allies . . . to deliver the last Potter to them. If he gave them Harry, who'd dare say he betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honours . . ." Sirius glanced to Pettigrew, who was busy with looking at the door and shaking his head frantically at the same time.

"So, you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive . . . It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the Dementors couldn't destroy it . . . it wasn't a happy feeling . . . it was an obsession . . . but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog . . . it's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused . . . I was thin, very thin . . . thin enough to slip through the bars . . . I swam as a dog back to the mainland . . . I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog . . . I've been living in the Forest ever since . . . except when I came to watch the Quidditch game, of course . . . you fly as well as your father did, Harry . . ."

Remus' jaw had dropped open. He had forgotten that Sirius had not only had to endure only his jail time, but also the time of a fugitive.

"Believe me. Believe me. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them." His cheeks were wet and his voice croaked. He looked pleadingly at Harry, and Harry, finally convinced, nodded.

"NO!" Peter had fallen on his knees and Remus looked at him in disgust. He was crawling around, first to Sirius.

"Sirius – it's me . . . it's Peter . . . your friend . . . you wouldn't . . ."

But Sirius did the same thing Remus would have done. In fact, he actually reacted more mildly than Remus had expected: he kicked out and Peter crawled away, to Remus.

"Remus! You don't believe this . . . wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?" he squeaked. But Remus didn't even have to think about that question. He remembered all too well that he had just entered Fenrir's colony as the Order's spy, had heard about all the plans Fenrir had, had realized that they actually made sense to the other werewolves, and Remus knew that he had not been in a position to be trusted at the time. He remembered all too well the warning Dumbledore had given him before he had started his mission: "Be sure that you always see the line between right and wrong, Remus, and be sure that the line will not move."

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter." He then looked at Sirius, who was looking guilty. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?"

"Forgive me, Remus."

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," he said, suddenly feeling slightly better: after all, Sirius had made mistakes too. He rolled up his sleeves: after the story Sirius had told, and after Harry had finally believed them, the urge to kill Peter was becoming bigger and bigger.

"And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing _you_ were the spy?"

"Of course," he said, in the same jaunty way he had done before Azkaban. He followed Remus' example, rolled up his sleeves too, and said: "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so."

Peter was looking pleadingly at them, but Remus couldn't find any compassion in his soul for him. This was the creature that had made him miserable for the last twelve years.

"You wouldn't . . . you won't . . ." He fled away from his former friends and crawled to Ron.

"Ron . . . haven't I been a good friend . . . a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you . . . you're on my side, aren't you?"

But the look on Ron's face showed a different opinion. He tried to move away from Peter's hand on the bed, and said, with utmost revulsion: "I let you sleep in my _bed_!"

"Kind boy . . . kind master . . . you won't let them do it . . . I was your rat . . . I was a good pet. ."

"If you made a better rat than human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," Remus said to the grovelling man, but Peter wasn't listening, too busy crawling to the next person: Hermione. Remus was starting to lose his patience now.

"Sweet girl . . . clever girl . . . you – you won't let them . . . help me . . ." But Hermione was just as stubborn as the rest of the company. She pulled her robes out of Pettigrew's hands and stepped backwards, horrified, but with a decisive glint in her eyes.

Then, just as Remus was about to step in, Pettigrew turned to Harry.

"Harry . . . Harry . . . you look just like your father . . . just like him . . ."

That was the limit. Remus would have screamed, if Sirius hadn't already done so.

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY? HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

"Harry," Remus heard Pettigrew whisper while Sirius was screaming, "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed . . . James would have understood, Harry . . . he would have shown me mercy . . ."

With a tiny nod to Sirius, he walked to Pettigrew. They took his arms and pulled him away from Harry. They dumped him on the floor at their feet, where he lay, shaking and trembling. Remus felt himself trembling too, but for very different reasons than Peter did.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort. Do you deny it?"

And then, Peter cried. He finally stopped with the lies. But it was too late for their trust.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord . . . you have no idea . . . he has weapons you can't imagine . . . I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen . . . He Who Must Not Be Named forced me—"

"DON'T LIE! YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"He – he was taking over everywhere! Wh—what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed? Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand! He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Remus remained a bit calmer than Sirius and said his goodbyes in a different tone:

"You should have realised. If Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter." All his emotions of the past twelve years turned into rage. Remus was sure he could perform the Killing Curse now. He raised his wand, saw Sirius do the same, saw Hermione covering her eyes and . . . saw Harry jumping in front of Pettigrew.

"NO! You can't kill him. You can't."

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Long time no update, but this chapter was also hard and boring to write: not much things I could add, from my own inspiration...

If you can't see where th shivers Remus has are leading to, just think what the next chapter will probably bring you, and why Snape knew where they were...

leave a review: that makes me happy, and will give me more energy to write the next chapter:D

xxx-mokimik-xx


	12. Moony Troubles

I don't own it; though I wish I had, because the chapter is pretty good... well, I will settle with only owning the weird crazy idea's in my head and the key-board I have typed this on... (It's a bit sticky, btw...)

anyway, on with the story!

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"Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents," Sirius said, while Remus himself was looking flabbergasted at Harry, who still stood in front of Pettigrew. Hadn't he understood? Was he still against them, still thinking Sirius had done it? He felt another shiver pass through him.

"This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family." Although Remus would have used different words, he nodded feverishly.

"I know," said the boy in front of them, panting. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the Dementors. He can go to Azkaban . . . just don't kill him."

Remus tried to understand why Harry would want to do this, but it was hard to think when he saw Pettigrew trying to embrace Harry, while gasping: "Harry! You – thank you – it's more than I deserve – thank you—"

But Harry's frown returned and he spat, "Get off me! I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because I don't reckon my dad would've wanted his best friends to become killers – just for you."

Remus already knew that Harry was truly the image of his dad, but he wondered which parent had passed on the need to do good. Probably Lily.

And then he understood something far more important: Harry had thought this through better than he himself had done: he had told the truth to three teenagers. But no one else knew; they needed Peter to prove that Sirius was innocent, in the same way they had first needed the rat in Ron's hand to prove he was still alive.

He looked at Sirius, who nodded, clearly thinking along the same lines as Remus himself did. Harry had every right to tell them what should be done with Pettigrew, just as he'd had the right to hear the truth about the betrayer of his parents. They both lowered their wands; Remus hadn't even noticed that even with Harry in front of him, he had still held his wand high.

"You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry. But think . . . think what he did . . ." Sirius tried to change his mind once more, but Remus, knowing Harry now for almost a year, and knowing how like his parents he was, knew that he wouldn't change his mind about this.

"He can go to Azkaban. If anyone deserves that place, he does . . ." The boy looked at Sirius and smiled.

"Very well. Stand aside, Harry," he said, but Harry looked at him with hesitation. "I'm going to tie him up. That's all, I swear," Remus added. Harry nodded and stepped out of the way. He looked at his former friend, and was almost disgusted to conjure the cords at his wrists and ankles.

"But if you transform, Peter, we _will_ kill you. You agree, Harry?" Harry nodded, almost immediately.

Remus got another shiver and a feeling that he should get out of here. This place was giving him the creeps.

"Right." He looked at the bed, where Ron was still lying, his face growing steadily more pale. "Ron, I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madame Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing."

Ron nodded, and Remus walked over, in the meantime digging in his brain to find the right spell for that measure.

"_Ferula_," he said, when he reached the bed. Bandages sprang out of the end of his wand, binding Ron's leg tightly to a wooden splint that had erupted from thin air. Then, he helped Ron up on his feet. Ron, being a bit unstable, gently put his weight on the leg. When Remus looked at Ron's face, he saw that he wasn't quite as uncomfortable anymore.

"That's better. Thanks," the boy said, smiling at him.

Remus wanted to help Ron with walking around in the room, when his attention was caught by Hermione, who softly said: "What about Professor Snape?"

He walked to her and the bundle of black robes, with here and there an arm sticking out, and checked his pulse, hoping that he hadn't given Snape more reason to hate him – although he knew already that he had.

"There is nothing seriously wrong with him," he heard himself say, and glanced for a moment at Sirius, knowing that, as a boy, Sirius had strongly disagreed on that point. He looked back at Hermione, who was standing still, terrified of having committed a crime.

"You were just a little—" _Like us in our time at school? Harsh?_ He knew that both of those answers wouldn't comfort Hermione at all, so he said, "over-enthusiastic. Still out cold." He wanted to wake Snape, but at the moment he drew his wand, he knew what kind of trouble Snape would make, and said, to explain himself: "Er—perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safely back in the castle. We can take him like this . . . _Mobilicorpus._" And, giving him an eerie feeling that he had done one of the exact same things that Sirius had done to Snape in their youth, Snape flew up in the air, like a puppet. He tucked the Invisibility Cloak that Snape had had in his hand into his pocket.

"And two of us should be chained to this. Just to make sure," Sirius said, almost kicking at the vermin called Pettigrew.

"I'll do it," Remus volunteered.

"And me," said Ron determined, limping towards the group.

Sirius conjured chains and Pettigrew was suddenly held upright, by Ron at his right, and Remus to his left.

"Let's go," said Sirius, and following Crookshanks, they walked out of the room.

The stairs were a bit difficult for Ron, Pettigrew and Remus, seeing as Peter didn't want to go down, and Ron barely could. But a nudge with Remus' wand did miracles to Peter's aversion, and when they walked a bit slowly, stair by stair, Ron managed to keep it up.

The tunnel wasn't difficult at all. Remus felt himself getting a bit cold, and he shivered again, while Peter was sobbing quietly, now and then letting a murmur of barely audible words out. Remus still couldn't believe what had happened. Sirius was free! Well, not yet: but how difficult could it be to walk to the castle? The only thing he now looked up to was the talk he would have to have with Dumbledore: He would have to admit to those piercing blue eyes that he had lied to them all along. He felt a bit nauseous when he thought about it. Or was that just the odour he smelled coming from Peter?

Ron had trouble walking so fast, so Remus slowed down a bit, constantly holding his wand at Peter.

"Are you okay, Ron?"

Ron nodded. As pale as his face had been on the bed, it was now equally red.

"Yeah – it's just – a bit difficult to walk – without one knee..to bend..."

"We'll be there soon. It's not that far to the castle, and I will personally bring you to the hospital wing once we arrive."

Ron nodded.

"That is, until we have delivered this stinking vermin—" he pointed at the wheezing man between them, "—to Professor Dumbledore."

"Yeah... –I suppose I should have washed you better," Ron said, staring at the man in disgust. Remus heard him mumbling further: "I knew it! Never trust anything Percy gives you! Fred and George were right!"

They had reached the end of the tunnel, and Remus walked out after Crookshanks, tugging Pettigrew with him, so Ron had enough space to climb out.

He inhaled deeply, and suddenly, felt that odd, weird shiver again. It felt familiar, as if he had had it before, not only tonight, but it was probably the adrenalin. Or perhaps – happiness, seeing as he had never felt so free from all his guilt before.

Once Ron had climbed up, Snape followed, a bit of blood oozing from under his hairline. It was clear to Remus that the blood hadn't been there in the Shrieking Shack, but that it was a result of Sirius' transport of him through the tunnel.

Peter made a sudden move at his right, and he quickly focused his attention back at him.

"One wrong move, Peter." Pettigrew shuddered again, and Remus followed his example.

When Hermione had climbed out of the hole, the group walked further. Remus cursed himself for not bringing his cloak with him: It had gotten cold. He felt a little dizzy, too.

And then the shaking began. He stood still. For a second more, Remus blamed the coldness of the night, but when Snape's body collided with his back, the truth hit him. Why had Snape seen them in the Shack? Because he was bringing the Wolfsbane Potion to his office! A potion Remus hadn't drunk. His thoughts were swirling in his head. Remus wanted to make it clear to Sirius, or Harry, or...He was too late, however: His mouth slowly started to sprout in a snout. Remus looked above and saw that a cloud was slowly shifting away. And then he saw his worst fear: the moon. Full.

The first thing he felt after that was the coldness from the ground. He was lying on his back, on what seemed to be a forest floor. His body felt numb and he had trouble opening his eyes. Remus felt weak, empty, as if a terrible storm had raced through his body and torn everything apart in him. He tasted blood in his mouth, and, without flexing it, could tell that his left wrist was not in working order.

Slowly, fearing what he would see in the light, but knowing already in the back of his mind, he opened his eyes. The first things he saw were the trees, staring at him from above. Remus sat upright, and saw his own feet. He had lost both shoes and shirt, and there was not much left of his pants. His hands were almost black and were covered in scratches.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no . . ." His throat felt dry, and some memories began to slip back, unbidden.

After almost a year, he had become a full werewolf again. He had seen the moon.

Remus tasted the blood in his mouth again, as if to determine if it was from someone he knew. Pettigrew was alright, but if it was one of the others, he wouldn't know what to do. He panicked. Had he bitten one of the students? After all the precautions that were taken this year, and in his years at Hogwarts as a student, had he finally broken them without wanting to? For a moment, he hyperventilated, but he calmed himself down: he had to, or the guilt would suffocate him.

A stick was lying next to him, and slowly, feeling every limb in his body screaming, he grabbed it, and tried to stand. In an automatic reflex, his eyes travelled to his wrist, to see what time it was, but the watch couldn't be called a watch anymore: several of the insides were hanging out, and the glass had disappeared. He looked at the sun and saw that it had just risen; it was probably four, five o'clock in the morning. If he was lucky, he could find the castle before everyone had eaten their breakfast: his situation was terrible and embarrassing enough without every student sitting outside gaping at him.

He walked, hoping he was going the right way and would find a path soon. His body protested with every step.

"Good morning, wolf Lupin," he suddenly heard from behind.

If his limbs had allowed it, Remus would have jumped, but instead of that, he turned his head, and his eyes met a centaur's.

"Er – good morning. I'm sorry. I'm . . ."

"Lost?" the centaur interrupted. Remus nodded, feeling too stupid and embarrassed to answer.

"Follow me. I assume your goal is to find the castle?" Remus nodded again, and followed the centaur, who was walking in the direct opposite the one Remus had planned.

"You created quite some havoc last night," the creature started, as if he was talking about the weather. "We all had to be careful not to cross your path. Almost every centaur was warned, and we all had to stop unravelling the future, to keep an eye out. We saw something of this sort coming, though; a full moon, and Neptune almost disappeared. And then we have Mars of course, but since he has been bright for a long time now . . . It was destined to come, this terrible night. I'm sure that it will have many consequences."

Remus heard only half of what the centaur was saying. He was still wondering who he had bitten, and suddenly, when it seemed that the centaur wouldn't speak further he asked:

"Have – have I injured anyone?"

"None of us," the centaur spoke simply. "There was an unfortunate rabbit, I think...You didn't seem to mind much if the flesh was human, animal or from a creature..." Remus shuddered, and the creature stopped talking.

They walked for about an hour in silence. Remus wondered how the centaur knew he needed help, and why he gave it. His free hand brushed against something soothing, and he looked down: the Invisibility Cloak he had taken last night was hanging a bit out of his pocket, but other than that, it seemed fine. Remus put it back, glad he hadn't damaged it. They walked further. Quite suddenly, Remus and the centaur reached the end of the forest.

"Here I will leave you. Good luck in the rest of your journey. May you find some happiness along the way."

Before Remus could say anything, the centaur turned away and disappeared. For a moment he stood there, realising that the centaur had meant the journey of life, instead of the journey to the castle. Then he inhaled deeply, and leaning heavily on his stick, walked towards the front doors.

It took him almost half an hour to reach those doors, and when he did, they were opened before he could knock.

"Hello Remus. I was wondering when you would be back." The piercing blue eyes were scanning him behind the glasses. Remus tried to avoid them, but still felt them burning. He said nothing.

"Let's walk to my office. Madam Pomfrey gave me a revitalizing potion yesterday. I think it will do you good."

Remus nodded and followed Dumbledore to his study. They both didn't speak; Remus because guilt and pain were overwhelming him, Dumbledore because he was softly humming a tune Remus had heard on the WWN.

The door closed and Dumbledore conjured him a very comfortable chair. As he slowly sat down, the Headmaster gave him a goblet full of a creamy substance that looked a lot like warm milk. Remus sipped from it, and felt a bit more relaxed.

"I have had quite an evening, Remus. And I've heard that you played quite some role in it."

Remus was still avoiding his eyes, looking at the goblet in his hands.

"You are probably wondering how the others are; I am pleased to inform you that they all are in perfect health, although it was close enough."

"So I haven't bitten any of them?" Remus now looked up, asking the question he had had in his head since waking.

"No, you haven't. Thanks to Mr. Black's quick transformation, he could untie you, and pull you away from the students immediately. But that's not even a fraction of the whole story I've heard. A story, of which you have heard only half."

"Half? What do you mean, sir? If Sirius pulled me away, what more is there to tell, other than the story we told Harry in the Shack?"

"In his noble attempt to save the others, Mr. Black lost Mr. Pettigrew, who turned himself back into his rat form, Scabbers, or Wormtail as I understand he's known in that state." Remus nodded and drank some more potion, feeling his heart sinking with that news.

"The rat Pettigrew fled after injuring Mr. Weasley, and when Mr. Black came back from freeing you, he immediately ran after him. Unfortunately, he was caught by some Dementors."

"No!" Without realising he had done it, Remus had stood up. "Sirius Black is innocent, Peter is the one that killed them!"

Dumbledore motioned him back in his chair.

"I have heard that, but at that time, I didn't know, and neither did the Dementors."

"So . . . Sirius . . ."

"Oh, he is quite whole, if that is your question, Remus. His soul is still intact. As I said, the story is longer than that."

Remus sat back and listened again.

"Mr. Potter and Miss Granger ran after Mr. Black, and were, just as Mr. Black was, knocked unconscious. Then, a Patronus was conjured from the other side of the lake, scaring the Dementors away. Severus woke at that moment, at which point he found Misters Black and Potter, as well as Miss Granger and Mr Weasely, all of whom he took to the Hospital Wing. With the exception of Mr. Black, whom he brought directly to me."

Remus wanted to interrupt again. The story made no sense. Who had conjured that Patronus? And where was Pettigrew? And how did Dumbledore know about Sirius and Pettigrew being Animagi? However, Dumbledore continued.

"I was at that moment having tea with Mr. Fudge. I have questioned Sirius, and he told me about the three of them becoming Animagi for you. Then he told me what had happened in the Shrieking Shack, and how you became a werewolf. Now, I believed him, but there was no way the greater wizarding world, nor the Wizengamot, would. It was obvious that Mr. Fudge, who was still here for the execution of the hippogriff Buckbeak, would want to perform the execution immediately. Fudge wouldn't even sit down to listen to Sirius; he thought he had already heard the whole story from Severus, whom he had promised the Order of Merlin."

"But Severus was unconscious when Sirius and I explained!" Remus said angrily.

"Severus thought he already knew the whole story, and that he hadn't missed a bit. When I heard the whole story from Sirius, however, I went to the hospital wing, and asked Harry and Miss Granger to go back in time with the Time-Turner Miss Granger has in her possession. You see, yesterday afternoon, Buckbeak managed to flee also; Harry and Hermione were responsible for that.

"They freed the hippogriff, and waited until they could free Sirius. But in the meantime, because they also had to look out for you, they hid themselves in Hagrid´s hut, giving them a clear view of the person who would eventually conjure the Patronus. It turned out, that that person was Harry himself. Thanks to your lessons, he managed to save not only himself, but also one of his best friends, and, if I recall James´ and Lily´s will correctly, his godfather." Remus felt a lump in his throat. Dumbledore's comforting words, about how he had taught Harry the Patronus weren't helping. Everything had been messed up, and all because he had forgotten to take his potion. Guilt was trying to drown him again.

"After that, they managed to fly up to the correct window, freeing Sirius. They came back, just in time to hear themselves disappear. I convinced Fudge that you weren't helping Black, and couldn't have helped him escape, as you had become a werewolf already. In all the commotion that followed, I managed to get in contact with one of the centaurs, asking him to help you. I assumed that you would be lost when you woke, and letting you find your own way back would have taken hours. I didn't want to have raised any students' suspicions. Two sightings of a murderer and the sudden flight of a hippogriff and that same murderer is enough for one year, I think."

Dumbledore stopped talking, and now looked straight into Remus' eyes.

"And Pettigrew?" Remus asked.

"Disappeared."

"He's gone? So Sirius still can't prove he's innocent?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Sirius fled, still as a murderer in the eyes of most. He will probably be sighted again soon, and reported seen as a convict. But we know he's innocent, Remus. And that is, at this moment, enough."

"I should have told you from the start of this year that Sirius could transform. Maybe Pettigrew wouldn't have escaped."

"Well, you didn't, and I think you had enough reasons for that." Dumbledore leaned forward and said in a softer tone: "I don't blame you, Remus. You've had enough to cope with."

"It looks like I'm back where I started," Remus suddenly blurted out. "If I hadn't been a werewolf, my friends would have never been killed, or falsely accused. And if I hadn't become a real werewolf last night instead of the tamer version, the real betrayer would never have escaped."

"It's not only your own fortune and will that contribute to the situation, Remus. If Harry had allowed you to kill him, if Sirius had been faster, if the Weasleys hadn't taken Peter in . . . It wasn't just your lycanthropic state. You cannot blame yourself because one of your friends turned out badly."

A bit lighter, Remus nodded.

"I advise you, Remus, to go to the hospital, and to ask Madame Pomfrey to look at those wounds. Seeing as she has known you for quite some time, she won't ask questions. I have informed the staff about your . . . er . . . behaviour last night; you don't have to explain to anyone. It's now almost seven o'clock, breakfast starts in two hours, so you should be decent by that time."

"Sir?"

Dumbledore looked up; Remus couldn't quite read the expression on his face, but he saw that it wasn't a happy one, as if he knew what was coming.

"I would like to resign."

"I see."

There was a pause, and he stared at Remus, with a sad expression. "Are you sure? I can promise you that I won't sack you later, when you and I will get to be criticized, nor that you will be sacked when the Ministry demands that."

"Yes, I am. Last night, becoming a werewolf while chained to Pettigrew and Ron, that never should have happened. It didn't matter how many precautions were in place, it still did. I have put a student in mortal danger. Three students, a friend and a teacher, actually. And I can't bear the thought of staying here, with the danger that it could happen again. Besides, I have lied to you the whole year, and it wouldn't be fair to ask you to take the blame that is obviously going to come."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, and then looked back at Remus.

"I am going to miss you here. You were a great teacher. Heaven knows what kind of teacher the students will get next term. But I think I'm not the only one who is going to miss you, Remus," he added, with a knowing look in his eyes. "He's rather attached to you now. And I'm almost sure he would want back that cloak you hold in your pocket."

Remus nodded, ignoring the last part, not even remotely surprised by Dumbledore's comment. "Yes, he's truly his parents' son. I liked it here. There were always people to laugh with. I think I will miss that." He stood up. "I think I will leave today, Dumbledore, if you don't mind."

"I wish I could change you mind, but I understand. Let me order a carriage for you, while you clean up and pack."

Remus nodded, and opened the door, descending the stairs, and almost walked into Hagrid, who looked very pleased.

"Hey there, Remus. I've heard 'bout yer little accident last nigh'. Are yeh a'right?" Remus nodded.

"Yes, I'm fine now. I have just resigned."

"Wha'? Resigned? Are you kiddin' me? Well, I can tell yeh that the students are gonna miss yeh."

"Yes . . . well . . . I have put them in too much danger." He shuddered again.

"Mi' be a bit harsh to ask, but do werewolves eat hippogriffs?" Hagrid asked suddenly.

"I think we can attack a weak one, but I'm pretty sure I didn't touch one last night."

The bearded face relaxed a bit, and broke back into a smile.

"Well, I'll be seein' yeh . . . People like yeh always have a knack for turnin' up when they're needed."

Remus smiled, waved, and walked to the hospital wing.

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Heey! It took a while to write and post this! My internet broke down, just as I wanted to sent it to my beta! (Who I haven't thanked in a while for editing. Sorry! Thanks LEAD!)

Don't worry, it's fixed now...and while I had no internet to distract me, I have already written the last and final chapter: Number 13!!! It will be a bit nostalgic and dramatic...you have to review me about this chapter to hear more :P:P

xxx-mokimik-xxx


	13. Surprises on the Hogwarts Express II

He was slowly limping to his own office, leaning on the real walking stick Madam Pomfrey had forced upon him. The potion she'd given him for his leg took some time to work, and in the meantime he could use it. ("It's not as if those kids will: whenever I give it to one of them, they forget it, or hex it into a false broom!" She had pointed at the trio, who was lying in the beds, still sleeping.)

Remus smiled. He knew that in fourth year, he had been given that same potion, and that Sirius had exactly done what Madame Pomfrey had described on the Slytherins. They had seen it before the match, though, and Sirius was forced to do detention.

Sirius... where would he be right now? Remus hoped he was safe, and that riding a Hippogriff would be as easy for him as riding his old enchanted motorbike. The image of Sirius, presenting that thing so years ago, flashed before his eyes: A maniacal glint in his eyes, not understanding why James, Lily, and Remus weren't quite so thrilled. But the image quickly changed: he saw Sirius' eyes filled with emotion, standing in the Shrieking Shack, whispering: "He is so much like James, Remus."

"Remus! Why, you are back quickly! Here, let me help you!" Minerva was standing in front of him, taking the box full of potions he had had in his free hand, over. She slowly followed him, walking to his office.

"I've just heard the news of your resignation, Remus."

"Wow, news travels fast around here," he smiled.

"Yes, well . . . In the times of the Marauders faster, or maybe I just don't hear everything anymore. Dumbledore just told me about it; he was asking me if I knew what time the Hogwarts Express leaves."

Remus smiled politely, but said nothing back. Suddenly, as if she couldn't hold it in anymore, Minerva blurted out, in a very un-McGonagall-way, "Are you sure you want to do this, Remus? You have safety here, people around you, a steady salary. Do you really want to give that all up, just because you feel too guilty? The students love you, they haven't learned that much since . . . well, I don't know, since ever!"

"It isn't just guilt, Minerva. It's the possibility that it might happen again."

She nodded slowly, still not content with the outcome of his decision.

"Well, I obviously can't change your mind. The train leaves at one o'clock, Remus."

He smiled again, and Minerva returned it with a rare one of her own.

Remus entered his office and saw that it had almost been left in the exact state as he had left it yesterday . . . Almost, because now there was also a full goblet standing on his desk, probably forgotten by Snape.

How much had happen in those fifteen hours . . .

A sudden rage against fate came over him, and he threw the goblet against the opposite wall, where its contents slowly dripped onto the ground. Why did everything have to turn into such a mess? Wasn't he allowed to feel happy? Didn't he deserve to live like a normal human being? To be able to feel the way he had when they had left the Shrieking Shack? His eyes found the Marauder's Map, lying innocently on his desk, and in his rage, he tried to tear it up. No more friendship; it had brought him to nothing! It had brought neither of them to nothing!

It had destroyed him – it had destroyed all of them! His vision was blurred; the corridors, dots and details of the castle were swimming before his eyes. He had one hand at each side already, when he calmed down, threw the Maurauders Map on the ground, and fell, feeling as if he couldn't set another step, on his bed.

The rest of the morning was bittersweet. Remus didn't want to think about how much he was going to miss the castle and all its inhabitants... well, almost all its inhabitants.

Breakfast definitely belonged to the "bitter" part of bittersweet. When Remus was putting marmalade on his second piece of toast, he heard some commotion at the Slytherin table. He looked up to see Snape standing there, looking even more evil than normal.

"I knew it!" screamed a boy. Remus didn't even bother to look up, but when a girl followed with the question "How could they have ever accepted him here?" the commotion got his attention. Draco Malfoy was standing up, saying, "Since my father isn't on the board anymore, Pansy, they just have lower standards for the teachers around here."

Remus felt his hands go cold, and his forehead go sweaty. He noticed that there were a lot of eyes looking in his direction, their mouths moving quickly. His own eyes met Snape's, and he knew that Snape had gotten his revenge, not only for what had happened the previous night, but also for the many pranks they had pulled on him in their school time. Remus bowed his head. If his decision of resigning hadn't already been made, he would have been forced to make it now. Severus Snape had finally broken the promise he had made to Dumbledore.

Since he had gotten some sleep between his visit to the Hospital Wing and breakfast, Remus now had to hurry a bit with packing, but first he looked at the last exams: the third years had done very well.

Then, with the words Dumbledore had spoken echoing in his mind, _Heaven knows what kind of teacher the students will get next term,_ he grabbed a piece of parchment and his quill, looked at his schedules he had made for every year, and started to write to those next-term-teacher, explaining what the classes had in common, with what they had trouble, and wishing him/her good luck.

He signed it, sealed it, and laid it in the drawer of the desk, having already emptied said drawer of its other contents.

Remus conjured some boxes and started to pack. He made short work of the paperwork on his desk, and he was just about to walk to his closet, when he saw a piece of parchment lying on the floor. Remus grabbed it, and was immediately reminded of his sudden rage this morning. He didn't know if he could have done it, but was glad he hadn't. He looked at the map, and remembered all the good times they'd had . . . maybe his friendship had brought them into trouble. But it had been too good to forget.

Slowly, he emptied the chamber and office. The tank of the grindylow was empty (he had set it free in the lake after his lessons) and stood next to his desk, ready to take it with him. Mundugus would probably want it back, so he could scandalize more people with the price he was asking for its contents.

Out of habit, he glanced at the Marauders Map, lying open and alone on his desk. To his surprise (but not so surprisingly, now he thought about it), a dot marked _Harry Potter_ was approaching his office. The dot was standing in front of the half open door and . . .

_Knock knock. _

"I saw you coming," he said, barely looking up, closing the Map.

"I just saw Hagrid, and he said you'd resigned. It's not true, is it?"

Not wanting to look at Harry, he started to take the contents out of the other drawers.

"I'm afraid it is," he said shortly, not looking up.

"_Why?_ The Ministry of Magic doesn't think you were helping Sirius, does it?"

Remus saw that he couldn't really avoid Harry or his questions. He walked to the door behind Harry, and closed it. Then, he looked at him, and saw the piercing green eyes looking back, a bit accusingly.

"No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives." Now that he said it, he realised that Dumbledore might have had great difficulty with that. He sighed and looked back at Harry, who was obviously not pleased with his explanation. Remus continued:

"That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard," he explained, putting his thoughts about the other straws for Severus far away in his mind. When Harry still didn't understand, he added: "So he – er – _accidentally_ let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

"You're not leaving just because of that!" Harry blurted.

Remus didn't even wonder anymore how Harry knew that and smiled.

"This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents – they will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you . . . that must never happen again."

"You're the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had! Don't go!" Harry pleaded. Remus shook his head, hearing the same things as Minerva . . . -no, it was just McGonagall now-, had said. He continued with taking the contents of his drawer and putting them back in his suitcase. Harry was quiet. _Maybe he's realised I'm right_, a voice in his head thought. But another one argued, _maybe he's just thinking of better arguments._ The last voice would probably be right. Harry was determined in everything he did . . . just like learning to conjure a Patronus. That suddenly reminded him, and he said:

"From what the Headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything, it's how much you've learned. Tell me about your Patronus."

"How d'you know about that?"

"What else could have driven the Dementors back?" he answered simply.

Harry started to tell, and with every second, Remus felt more proud. Not only about Harry, but also a bit about himself: He _had_ helped!

"Well, I had seen my . . . someone that scared the Dementors away. So when I was back in time, with Hermione, I waited around that spot, in the hope I could see that . . . person. But I waited, and waited, and in the meantime, Sirius, Hermione and me were dying at the other side of the lake. So I finally understood that it was me. I . . . thought of a happy thought, and conjured a full Patronus. It was a shining animal form, a stag, and it ran at the other side of the lake, saving . . . us . . . " He got silent for a moment, and then asked: "So I guess that that was the form my dad could transform in? A stag?"

"Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed. You guessed right . . . that's why we called him Prongs."

Remus grabbed the last book from the shelves, put it in his suitcase, looked around to see if he had everything, and then closed the lid.

Except for the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map, Remus' office was empty. He looked at Harry, and smiled again.

"Here—" he said, giving Harry the cloak. "I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night." He looked down at the Map and was suddenly doubtful . . . he had taken it away from Harry . . . was he allowed to give it back? It was clearly a (_what was it Filch had termed it?_) highly dangerous, object, but certainly precious when it came to breaking rules . . .

"And . . ." he hesitated no longer. He wasn't Harry's teacher anymore; he was now a friend. "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you this back as well." When he spoke those words, he forced himself to indeed not feel guilty. "It's no use to me, and I daresay you, Ron and Hermione will find uses for it."

Harry grinned and took the map.

"You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs would've wanted to lure me out of school . . . you said they'd have thought it was funny," he reminded Remus.

"And so we would have done. I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle." Harry grinned widely, and for that second, Remus saw James again.

Then, there was a knock on the door, and Harry hastily stowed away the cloak and map as Dumbledore entered.

"Your carriage is at the gates, Remus."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Remus picked up the grindylow basin up, and held his suitcase in the other hand. Then, he looked once more at the green eyes.

"Well— goodbye, Harry. It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again some time." Then turning to Dumbledore, who looked as though he wanted to escort Remus to the waiting carriage (probably discussing what Snape had said during breakfast), he said: "Headmaster, there is no need to see me at the gates, I can manage."

"Goodbye then, Remus."

He shifted the basin higher, and shook Dumbledore's outstretched hand. He gave a nod to Harry, and a smile to the both of them, and then turned around, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

When he got out of his carriage, he saw the steaming red train was already at the platform, and limped, just like last time, towards the train. He entered, and without even thinking about another option, he walked to the last compartment, and stepped in. With a deep breath and a last gasp of strength, he pushed his suitcase in the luggage rack and sat down, rubbing his eyes. Soon, a whistle was blown. A few people from Hogsmeade entered the train, and with a last sound of a whistle, the doors closed and the train started moving. Remus shifted into a more comfortable position and began to think over the events of last night.

With Peter on the loose, everything would be . . . he couldn't even put the thought into words. Nobody would believe Sirius, who would still be forced to live the life of a fugitive. Where would he be now, anyway? Hippogriffs could fly enormous distances without getting tired. Maybe he had planned to go on a vacation for a while . . . he deserved one, after all those years in a cell. Would Sirius keep contact with him? Probably not. Maybe with Dumbledore . . .

And what about himself? What was he going to do? He would never find such a great job as he had had this year and now that he was in trouble with the Ministry, his job options were reduced to zero. Snape telling every Hogwarts student what he was, and the fact that there were probably going to be a few more laws pushed through that would make his life harder wasn't helping either. He sighed. Maybe he could do something in the muggle world for a while, or at least go away until the news about him was a bit less fresh.

Everything was messed up, maybe even more messed up than the last time he had sat here. He remembered that the trio had walked in, and Ron and Hermione had started what seemed to be their usual bickering. Wasn't it about Pettigrew and Chrookshanks? Probably. An ironic smile played around his lips. He hadn't been the only Marauder in the compartment last time . . .

He wondered what Harry had thought about the whole situation. If he had known that Sirius was his godfather, and if he now knew he was innocent, he probably would feel very frustrated. Maybe Sirius would write to him also . . . The train was making him sleepy, and his eyes slowly fell.

He was woken up by a sharp tapping on the glass. Slowly, opening his eyes, he looked around, and saw a tiny owl sitting at the edge of the window that had been opened. When the owl saw that he was finally awake, it entered the cabin and landed on Remus' knee.

Remus was surprised and untied the owl from the letter. The owl started hooting and flying like mad in the compartment. Remus smiled and watched it for a few seconds, but then his attention and curiosity was back at the little parchment he now had in his hands. He unrolled it and read:

_Dear Moony, _

_I hope you are alright after the events of last night. I am fine and, as you would have heard by now, exploring the places furthest from any Dementors. I hope my appearance yesterday hasn't given you any trouble, but I'm almost sure it did, seeing as I both Snivellus and the Ministry left behind there. Sorry. Please write back to let me know what's going on: I had hardly time to speak to you, and a bit of contact wouldn't hurt after twelve years. _

_Padfoot_

It was written with the same wit and joy as Remus knew from Sirius. He decided that he would write back immediately. Standing up, and ignoring the owl, he opened his briefcase in the luggage rack and searched for a piece of parchment and a quill. Then, with his tongue between his teeth, he started writing. It was hard to find the right words he could use in the letter, but after half an hour, he had something on parchment:

_Dear Sirius,_

_Thank you for your letter! I hadn't expected it, and by the bird's hooting, he didn't expect it either that I would get it. _

_I am currently on the Hogwarts Express: realising that what has happened last night was too dangerous for the students and should never happen again, I have resigned. I tend to think that if I hadn't, Snape might have committed murder, although I'm not sure if the victim would have been me for staying and helping you or Dumbledore for allowing both._

_I also heard from Dumbledore what exactly happened last night after I transformed. I was sad to hear that Peter got away: Do you have any clues whereto? _

_Both Harry and Hermione made it back safely after they freed you. You were right, Sirius, when you said last night that he looks so much like James: I have been amazed by it the whole year. He even has the map and cloak in his possession, and tried to sneak out of the castle this year, because he never got the permission from his guardians to go to Hogsmeade!_

_As far as I know, most of the Dementors are still at Hogwarts, although probably not for long, as Dumbledore finds their presence awful, but you are safe for now. _

_Please write back soon. Twelve years is far too long._

_Sincerely,_

_Moony_

Remus sighed and rolled up the letter. He then realised that the letter was twice as big as the owl (which was still hooting, bouncing from wall to wall). He didn't want to shorten his letter, though: he had already cut out most of the thousand things he had wanted to say in the interest of not using an entire roll of parchment. When the owl made a dive near his left ear, he caught it, and said to it: "Do you think you can take a letter this big?"

The owl hooted happily, and Remus started to attach it to one of its feet.

"Now, there is no hurry to bring it, take your time. Just make sure you bring it to the right person, it's very important."

With one last hoot, the owl jumped off his hand, dropped a few centimetres, and then flew towards the open window, to disappear from view.

Remus sat back down, feeling quite a bit happier. He remembered his own owl, a plain brown one, and hoped that this little one would be just as dependable.

Staring into nothing, there was no way to avoid thinking about all the times he had sat here with his friends. There was the time in first year, when they had just stumbled in the last compartment, there had been the time Peter had told them about his holiday to Spain and the time Sirius had told them he was saving money for a flying motorbike, trying to get James just as crazy to buy one too. If Remus recalled correctly, that was sixth year. James had just nodded and stared out of the compartment, obviously not listening, but looking at a red-haired girl prefect who was patrolling the corridors and trying hard to ignore him. And the last time they had sat here talking about their plans for the future. Sirius was going to work full time for the Order, just as James and Lily would, while he would have a job in the Ministry, and Peter hadn't known yet. It had probably been one of the last worry-free talks they had had together.

Quickly, the landscape outside the window became more civilised, and much faster than Remus would have liked, the train stopped at the platform.

He stood up, grabbed his suitcase, and went to pull it from the rack above him. But something caught his attention. Above the luggage rack, so small that you almost couldn't see it, was a bit of carved text. How could Remus have forgotten! This had been their last prank, although Sirius had said that it didn't count, because they had tricked no one. Standing on his toes, he read:

_Though Hogwarts was our actual home, _

_We didn't enter each on our own._

_The friendship started actually when we met here,_

_Meaning that this compartment holds more than it appears._

_Mischief and trouble was what we were longing for, _

_Seven years long, and now nevermore._

_Look out, big world, here we come, _

_Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs._

_The Marauders_

It had been carved by James, and to make it even more James-like, there was a circle under the text ( by the looks of it had the circle been a poor attempt from James to draw a heart,) and in it were the initials _JP + LE_.

With one last look at the scribbling, Remus left the compartment and the train. He felt a sudden new hope grow. Not everything was gone. True, Peter might be a traitor, James might be dead, but he and Sirius were still here!

He grinned at the steaming train and walked to the oh-so-familiar wall that separated the red train from the prying eyes of Muggles. This had been definitely an interesting year . . .

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and there it was: the last chapter of a werewolf's tale:(

If you didn't notice, the story ends a bit in the same way as the first chapter did begin... maybe a good reason to read that chapter again (A)

I hope you all enjoyed reading it, as much as I loved to write it...

HUGE thanks to LEAD, or just Lisa, who has edited every chapter and has saved me from some great mistakes, both grammar-wise as story- and charcter-wise...

and then also a thanks to all the reviewers, especially the ones who have reviewed every chapter!!

xxx-mokimik-xxx

ps: I will write some more whole stories, with chapters and everything, and maybe about another book seen through a character other than Harry...it will take some time to come up with one, though...you can leave your suggestions to me in a review!


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